


Purple Butterflies

by NymphInTheClouds



Category: One Piece
Genre: Brotherly Sabo, Child Abuse, Tenryuubito | Celestial Dragons | World Nobles, The Revolutionary Army (One Piece)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NymphInTheClouds/pseuds/NymphInTheClouds
Summary: Azaria's quiet life was ripped away from her in the blink of an eye as she was plucked from her town like a dog and forced into slavery.(Formerly known as A Slave to Celestial Dragons)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Celestial Dragons

_1509, December 31st, 8:00 a.m_

Something was wrong, she just knew it. There was a horrible feeling slowly clawing at her. Azaria may still have been young, but she knew this feeling wasn't a good one. This wasn't a feeling someone her age should be experiencing right now. Fear and anxiety lace her throat, she wanted to, needed to, find out what was causing her to feel this way.

Light poured in from her bedroom window; she got out of bed and crept over to the glass, looking out at the vast ocean in front of her. Slowly coming towards her island was a ship bearing the sigil of the world government. Her mother told her about them before—they were people with a lot of power. What could they possibly be doing here? Why were they coming to this little island in the middle of nowhere?

The island she lived on was known as Ziema. It was always cold, mist constantly hovered around the streets and forests; pine and spruce trees were dotted all over. The village she resided in was small and most houses were made of wood or stone, her house was small and made of both. She looked around her small room and her eyes lingered on her small cozy bed. All she wanted was to crawl back in, wrap up in her fluffy blankets, and drift off into a peaceful sleep. She couldn't though, she had to tell her mom about what she'd seen.

Azaria shuffled over to her dresser, grabbed her small coat and pulled it on. It was a soft lilac colour with grey accents around the cuffs and pockets—it was definitely her favourite! She walked over to her door and stepped directly into her living room. It was a little bigger than her room and had a few pieces of furniture. Her mother was sitting on a small, tattered couch; in front of the couch was a small coffee table that was littered with books. When she walked in, her mom closed the book she was reading and looked up at her, a warm smile grew on her face. "Good morning Zari!" her mother greeted.

"Good morning mommy," she said quietly, with worry laced in her words.

Her mother stared at her for a moment, trying to read her daughters expression to figure out what was wrong. "Is something the matter, honey?"

The little girl walked over to her mother, sat beside her and pulled her knees to her chest. "A big ship with the world government thingy is coming here and I feel…" she paused for a moment, trying to think of a word to fit the feeling, "Scared?" she asked, still confused on what word to use—she wasn't quite scared, but she didn't know the word for what she was feeling.

Her mother looked worried. She didn't know how to feel about those people coming here. A tightness formed in her chest, in that moment, she feared she would lose her daughter to those awful people. They had come here before, a long, long time ago, after all, and they had done what they were most likely going to do today—take children as slaves.

Her smile had long since faltered, a new fake one crept on her face in an attempt to calm her little girl. "Everything will be okay honey, I promise," she said softly and stroked her daughters' hair.

"Okay, mommy…" Azaria knew something was definitely wrong now, even her mom looked scared. The fear and anxiety inside of her were flaring, growing stronger and stronger by the second. This innocent little girl was helpless to what fate had in store for her, she knew that—and it just made her even more scared than she already was.

They spoke a little longer, and the whole time her mother had been holding her and stroking her hair in an attempt to get her to feel better. It didn't help much—her mother was shaking the whole time, and after a bit, Azaria walked back into her room and laid down in her bed.

* * *

_9:15 a.m_

The little girl had been staring out of her window ever since the conversation with her mother had ended. The ship was getting closer, it was only a few minutes away now. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she could feel it was bad. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes but she wouldn't let them—she had a feeling that she would have to be strong for what was to come.

"Azaria, it's time to go outside now; they're almost here," she paused, hesitant to speak. "Whatever they want you to do—please listen to them..." There was a grim tone in her mother's voice. The little girl's blood ran cold.

The woman held her hand out for her daughter to hold as they made their way outside. The ship had just docked. Everyone that lived in the town on the little island was walking outside, preparing themselves for what the older residents knew was coming. Every single person who resided in the town walked towards the plaza near the dock.

Azaria and her mom stepped outside onto a cobblestone street and began walking downhill towards the plaza. Every time she breathed out of her mouth she could see it in the air. She looked toward the plaza; it was an open circular area with the same cobblestone as the street she was on. Towards the back of the area was a small wooden platform.

As Azaria and her mother were nearing it, the celestial dragon and several people were getting off of the ship and walking towards the plaza as well. There were two people who stood out. Azaria's mother instantly recognized the first as Saint Rosward. The second was a young boy, around 9 or 10 years old. He had black hair that was styled the same as his presumed fathers, and snot dripping out of one side of his nose. He was slightly obese and wore the same outfit as his father: a white suit that was decorated with what looked like buttons and a weird glass-like bubble over their heads. Saint Rosward was a tall man with a black moustache, a fluffy beard and grey hair that was curled at the top.

By now, everyone had reached the plaza. The older man, Saint Rosward, walked onto the platform with the child by his side and guards around him. He began to speak, "All of you, line up this instant!" he commanded.

Everyone did just that, there were several long rows of people lining the plaza. Each and every person in sight looked scared—terrified of what was about to happen. The man told the child to follow him, and they started slowly walking down the rows of people, examining each and every child. A few times, the older man asked the name and age of someone and proceeded to have one of his presumed subordinates drag them over to the ship.

A row away from Azaria, there was a child being taken; her assumed father yelled and screamed not to take his little girl. He was ignored until he charged at Saint Rosward. The man balled his hand into a fist and then struck the 'saint' in his gut. The noble coughed roughly, and a furious expression grew on his face. In the blink of an eye, he raised his cane and shot the man that had made the grave mistake of punching him.

The sound was louder than anything Azaria had ever heard, there was a loud bang and an audible crack. The man's body fell onto the ground and blood pooled around him. Tears started running down her cheeks, she knew this was not supposed to happen. This was _wrong._

"That should teach you all to not do this to me!" The "Saint" yelled loudly.

His son looked so... nonchalant about what had just happened. This scared Azaria even more, she clutched her mother's hand tightly. Tears began to race down her mother's cheeks as well; both of them were terrified.

Rosward and his son continued slowly strolling down the rows of people. They eventually made their way to Azaria's row; the closer they got to her, the more she started shaking. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and dripping off of her chin. Finally, they were in front of her.

The young boy stared at the girl in front of him. Freckles dotted her cheeks, and long, black hair framed her face. Under the corner of her left eye, she had a small, heart-shaped freckle; her purple eyes looked dim—almost lifeless. She was scared, and the boy liked that. An insidious smirk formed on his lips, "Father, I want this girl," he said with a slimy tone.

His father stared at the girl for a moment before saying, "Name and age, girl." Azaria stared back, fear in her eyes. "Don't keep me waiting," he said seriously.

"A-Azaria. I'm seven years old…" she said quietly. Her body was screaming at her to look down, not to look in the eyes of this evil man anymore, but she knew it wouldn't be alright—something bad would happen if she looked away. She forced herself to maintain her gaze.

"Take her to the ship." the man commanded. Another man dressed in a white and blue uniform gently grabbed her arm and began pulling her towards the giant ship at the dock. Tears trickled down her cheeks and soft whimpers escaped from her throat as she began to bawl.

' _This isn't happening!'_ She chanted in her mind. She tried to convince herself it was a dream, but she just couldn't bring herself to believe it. The pain was real, the sounds were real, the scent of blood, salt, and gunpowder were all real. She knew she couldn't dream this.

As she was being pulled towards the ship, she could hear her mother screaming and crying for her. Her mother knew this could happen, she tried to prepare herself for the worst but she couldn't handle losing her precious little child.

"Silence, woman," Rosward demanded. She continued crying despite the command.

A gunshot—everything was silent.

"Don't turn around," the man pulling Azaria said seriously.

Her body and mind screamed at her not to, but she looked behind her. She _needed_ to know who was shot—to know if her mother was alright.

Her mother was lying on the ground clutching her shoulder tightly. Azaria was relieved the worst hadn't happened. Her mother, even with all of the pain she was feeling, physical and emotional, was forcing herself to be quiet. She didn't want her little girl to lose her. Azaria wasn't sure whether to feel happy her mom was only shot in the shoulder or sad that her mother _was_ in fact, shot in the shoulder.

The little girl blamed herself for what happened.

As she was nearing the ship, she looked back one more time—there were _so_ many people crying, terrified their child would be taken next. Azaria hurt inside knowing that so many people were being ripped away from their lives today. It hurt, even more, knowing she may never get to see her mother again. Her mother's words from their conversation in the morning echoed through her mind.

" _Zari, there are some scary people coming here. No matter what please do what they say. I want you to live, for me, honey. Even if we're not together, I just can't bear the thought of losing you."_

Azaria finally understood why her mother had said those words. Her mother knew what might happen, but couldn't bring herself to say it outright.

The man started pulling her onto the ship; there were a few children and teenagers following behind them, and a few more men in the same uniform coming back off the ship. So many thoughts ran through Azaria's mind. What was going to happen to her?

The man brought her into a dim room below deck; she shivered as she walked in—it was cool and damp like the outdoors. It was lit with a few oil lamps and the room smelled of mould. About a dozen other children of varying ages were sitting with their backs to the wall. The man who brought her down positioned her in front of him and crouched down to her height. He smiled warmly and whispered, "I know this is scary but I promise everything will be okay. Just do what they say, down to every little word and you'll be safe."

With those words, he ruffled her hair and walked off, leaving her in the dark room with all the other children. She plodded over to the other children and sat down beside a young girl, most likely around 5 or 6 years old, and timidly sat down. Azaria was shaking in fear; the little girl beside her put her hand on Azaria's and in a small, soft voice said, "I think everything'll be okay—we just hafta make it through this." There was a soft smile on her face afterword, which seemed to calm Azaria down a little.

"Thank you, I needed to hear that," Azaria smiled warmly. She looked towards the stairway that led up to the deck, it was such a gloomy day outside. Dark clouds hung over the ship, threatening to break loose.

Every so often, another child would be escorted below deck with the rest of them. Each and every one of them looked terrified. It broke Azaria's heart seeing them, so many other children that were going to the same place as her. What would they be put through?

* * *

_10:00 a.m_

After a while, one last child walked through and the door was shut behind them. Loud but muffled voices could be heard outside. The ship started swaying a little more than it already was, and Azaria assumed the ship had started sailing. She felt sick, so sick, in fact, that throwing up was a definite possibility. Most, if not all of the children were crying, some loudly, others softly. There were a few that were covering their faces with the sleeve of their coats, and some were curled into balls.

Despite being in tears themselves, some of the teenagers held the youngest children in their arms in an attempt to calm them down. Azaria was a little envious of them, and at the same time, she was happy that they were getting some comfort.

She herself had her knees pressed to her chest, arms around them and holding herself tightly. Her eyes were puffy, cheeks red, tears stained her cheeks, and her nails were digging into her arms. She was trying to comprehend what was going on. Her life had just been shattered, and now she's being thrown into one that's completely alien to her.

* * *

_11:00 a.m_

After a while, the door creaked open and two men walked in, both in the same white and blue uniform the man from earlier had been wearing. They both carried two wooden crates, they descended the stairs, then walked towards the middle of the room and sat the crates down. They effortlessly pulled the tops off. One of the men spoke, "This is your food for the next two days. Make it last." there was a hint of regret in his voice, despite his attempts to silence it.

She recognized that voice, that was the man that had brought her to the ship. His words from earlier came back to her, could she really trust what he had to say? Was everything actually going to be okay if she listened to the world nobles? Or was he just trying to fool her into having false hope?

"M-mister...where are we going?" A little boy asked. His voice was shaking and he sounded afraid.

"Mary Geoise." The other man answered. His voice was gruff and uncaring.

The little boy who asked the question looked confused, noticing this, the kinder man spoke up, "It's where all of the world nobles live. You'll go there to become slaves." He couldn't begin to hide the mix of anger, regret, and sorrow in his voice.

After he spoke, every single child was silent. They were filled with fear—dread was painted on each of their faces. Some of them began to shake in terror, others were completely still with tears running down their cheeks. A few of the older children were attempting to soothe the younger ones, saying how everything will be okay, that they'd make it through this together.

Azaria felt like everything wasn't going to be okay, this was all completely _wrong_.

* * *

_11:30 a.m_

A little while after the men left, Azaria's stomach growled loudly and a few children looked at her, soft smiles were on their faces and a few even giggled. She felt happy; just a little bit happier than she was, at least.

She looked towards the crates in the center of the room, she knew there was food inside—she just didn't know what yet. She stood up slowly and walked towards one of the crates. She wobbled a little as she was walking, still shaking, and peered inside. The only thing inside was bread, there was a lot, but there were also a _lot_ of children. Azaria grabbed a single piece and walked back to where she was previously sitting. Some of the other children walked towards the centre to grab bread as well. A few of the older children offered to grab food for the younger ones, and most of them accepted the offer.

Azaria bit into her bread while watching the other kids, her food was dry—almost stale—and practically tasteless. The older children were walking back over, a few of them had armfuls of bread in their arms. All of them were careful not to drop any as they passed them out.

She finished her bread and lied down, she just wanted to sleep this all away. She couldn't stand another second here, but she knew she'd be here for a while. She closed her eyes and curled into a ball the best she could. Other children laid down beside her in an attempt to keep warm.

Eventually, she drifted off into an almost pleasant sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This was originally posted to FFN, but I decided I'd upload it here too, now that I'm actually using my AO3 account. I'm going to space out the chapters here a bit, but if you wanna read what I have so far right away, just head on over to FFN! My username is the same there c: Also, this fic does get well, dark at times, so if you can't stomach violence then please, don't read further! Put your mental health first! And please, let me know what you think, and if you spot any spelling/grammar errors that I missed, please let me know! Also, there are probably things I didn't tag? I'm new to the tagging system, and I'd like to avoid over-tagging. If you have any suggestions, I'm happy to hear them! 
> 
> ~Nymph


	2. The Claw of The Celestial Dragons

_The sound of the gunshot rang through Azaria's_ _ears as she watched the man's lifeless body fall to the ground. The scent of iron—of blood—filled_ _the air. She gagged and slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't take it;_ _the macabre sight smelled horrible._

 _She blinked—her mother was lying on the ground, clutching her shoulder tightly;_ _blood covered her hands and her arm and began dripping on the ground. Azaria felt warm tears roll down her cold cheeks  
_

* * *

_1510, January 12th, 5:00 a.m_

She screamed and immediately shot up. She was covered in sweat and tears were streaming from her eyes. All of the other children had gotten used to it by then, some tried to ignore it. If they paid attention, it would start making them think about home again, about all of their screaming parents. None of them wanted to be reminded of the home they may never get to see again.

A little girl gently put her hand on Azaria's and stared into her eyes. "Zari, everything's gonna be okay—I promise. I'm here for you, almost all of us are," she said gently.

Azaria hugged the younger girl tightly and sobbed, "Thank you so much, Lyra." Her voice was whiny; a mixture of pain, terror, and sorrow dripped from every word that forced its way from her mouth.

Lyra smiled softly and hugged Azaria back, her big blue eyes were full of love as she said, "You don't have to thank me, Zari. I'll always be here for you, I promise."

* * *

_January 24th, 12:13 p.m_

Azaria had been woken up by loud yelling from outside the room that she and all the other children had been condemned to for so long. The ship stopped swaying as much as it usually did. She assumed the ship had stopped to pick up more supplies, it had happened a few times in the past few weeks after all. After all of the men would return, two of them would bring down four crates of food and a barrel of water.

In the past 25 days—she'd been keeping track by listening to the men yelling outdoors—they'd brought food down every day or two. It wasn't always bread, sometimes it was over-ripe fruit. Those were the only things they had been fed since they all had been forced down here.

Tired of thinking, Azaria laid her head back down onto her makeshift pillow—it was actually her jacket—and drifted back off to her nightmare-filled dreams.

* * *

_4:45 p.m_

The door creaked open and two men walked in, the kinder one was carrying two crates and the uncaring one was carrying one crate and one barrel of water. The kinder man got every child's attention by saying, "Food is here!" He tried to sound happy for them, but he couldn't keep the sorrow out of his voice.

Some of the children got up before the men had left to grab their share. Most of the younger children had been getting their food by themselves now, however, there were a select few who were still too scared to move. Azaria stood up slowly, shaking only a little, as she walked towards the center of the room. She grabbed her food for the day and walked back to her coat.

* * *

_February 3rd, 7:30 p.m_

Azaria's anxiety was worse today than it was the whole time she's been here. She knew something bad was coming today, she just wasn't sure what. The ship stopped swaying as much as it usually had. _'This is bad—they're not just picking up supplies today are they?'_ she thought.

The door creaked open and five men in blue and white uniforms walked in. They were all carrying shackles that were linked together with chains. "Almost time to get you off the ship, we just gotta get you ready first," the uncaring man said in his usual gruff voice.

A few of the children started crying again, even more tears stained their faces. A few of the older boys and girls were doing their best to act strong but it was just too hard for them. They couldn't bear the emotional strain.

The men walked towards the children and began putting them in cuffs. Azaria felt sick to her stomach. Her mouth began to salivate, she did all she could to not throw up. She swallowed every drop of saliva and forced the bile back down to her stomach. Her throat burned, tears formed in her eyes as the cold metal cuffs were locked to her wrists.

More and more children were cuffed by the minute, all linked together by chains. There were four rows, eight kids in each. Four of the uniformed men grabbed a chain and began leading the slaves out.

Azaria stepped onto the first stair, her body ached from barely moving the past month.

Another step—her mind screamed at her to run away.

Third step, fourth step, fifth—she started shaking.

Sixth stair, seventh—tears started streaming down her face.

Eighth, ninth, tenth—she felt like she was going to throw up again.

 _'Force it down! Force it down, force it down, force it down!'_ She swallowed the saliva, she swallowed every drop of the bile, and she choked back sobs. Pain filled her throat, it was burning even more.

Eleventh, twelfth—sunlight. It was so bright. Her eyes were burning. She was blinking rapidly, trying her best not to let the light into her eyes.

She was now standing on the deck, staring up at a giant red wall made of rock—the red line. She'd never seen it before—it was completely breathtaking. If this had been under different circumstances, she would've been admiring it much longer. She looked around, examining the area further. There were a few bubbles floating around the two big trees, they were white with dark stripes. Two large ship-like vessels connected to some sort of black rope, a large bubble was on the bottom of it as well.

The men were leading everyone off the ship and onto one of the vessels. Once everyone was on, it started rising slowly, Azaria's fear just got even worse. The children around her all looked as terrified as she was. Out of all the men escorting them, only the kind man had a look of regret, shame and anger. The others looked amused, bored and irritated.

The cuffs around her wrists were too tight, they were slowly digging into her skin. From what she could see, the other children's cuffs were also too tight, excluding the eight children who were cuffed by the kind man.

Looking at all of their faces caused a pain in her heart. Seeing Lyra's terror-filled eyes, red nose, and tear-streaked cheeks hurt her even more. They'd gotten so close over the past month; every time Azaria would wake up screaming, the one to comfort her had been Lyra. She knew that somehow, her and Lyra—all of these children–would have to find a way to escape. If they didn't, they would undoubtedly die here. What happened back home on Ziema proved that.

The vessel had just gotten to the top of the red line and the men began to lead everyone outside. In front of her was a giant staircase that was carved into the mountain, a gate was at the top. Statues placed in carved out areas within the walls beside every tenth step. When they got to the top, they walked through the gate.

Azaria looked around; the large pathway was lined by trees. To her left there was a forest, to the right was a row of trees, and on the other side of the trees sat a river. Off in the distance, she could see a lot of mansions. The most extravagant thing she'd seen was a tremendous castle that towered over all the other buildings. The clouds were so close to the ground that she could almost touch them. The men led all of the children down the path. It was a long walk, Azaria panted, almost of breath. Sweat dripped down her face from her hairline and her vision began to fade in and out.

* * *

_8:00 p.m_

Eventually, they got to another gate, it wasn't quite as big as the previous one, however. On the doors, a large red symbol was carved and painted on. The symbol was a circle with three triangles spread out above it and one directly in the center under the circle.

Several men guarded the doors, one began to speak to the uncaring man at the front.

"What's your business here?"

The man sighed and spoke in his gruff voice, "We have slaves for Saint Rosward and his family."

The guard nodded. "Alright, you may pass into the 'Domain of the Gods."

The doors began to open; past them, mansions were spread out across the land. The doors closed behind them after they made their way through. They continued walking for a long time. Soon enough they were in front of a mansion, seeing it up close, it looked more like a palace. They marched around back and a small, wooden house came into view.

They made their way inside; the first room was bare with grey walls and no decor, with no furniture in sight. There were three doors: one on the back wall, one on the right wall and the last on the left wall. Everyone was led to the door on the left wall and into a room filled with baths. "We have to bathe you so we'll take your shackles off now," the uncaring man said. He and the other three men began taking the cuffs off. "All of you, strip down now," he demanded.

None of the children obeyed; they were all frozen in terror. The man looked furious as he eyed everyone in disgust. "Guess we have to do it ourselves," the man growled.

"But sir we can't do that! They're just children!" the kind man yelled.

The uncaring one glared at him, "They're slaves now, less than human. They're worth no more than a mere dog."

Those words made the kids break a little more. Some of them, Azaria included, dropped to their knees with their eyes glued to the ground. Tears flowed from their eyes. This was the moment when they began to realize what they all were.

The cruel man and a bored-looking one walked up to the children and started to pull off the kids' dirty clothes. The children covered themselves the best they could with their hands. The ones who tried to resist the uncaring man were hit. "Go into the bath and wash off. You have ten minutes."

Two of the men walked out of the door to stand guard outside while two stayed inside to watch the children. The adolescents sat in the water fearfully, too afraid to so much as move. The water burned their skin causing a few of them to flinch.

After a minute passed, some of the older boys and girls began to wash themselves off, shaking. The grime quickly washed off and dispersed into the water. Following the example of the older kids, the younger ones followed in cleaning themselves. After Azaria finished washing the filth off of her skin, she leaned back and began washing the buildup of muck from her hair.

"Z-Zari...will you wash my hair too?" Lyra asked in a quiet, fearful voice. Azaria simply nodded and washed the young girl's hair.

As the men walked back in, the uncaring one called out, "Out of the bath, now!"

The children scrambled getting out of the bath, terrified of getting hit again. Azaria shivered as the cool air licked at her skin. They followed the men outside of the door, into the one across from them. The room was filled with crates; one of the men peered on the top of a crate before pulling it open. It was filled with white shirts and brown overalls. "Put them on," said the uncaring man.

Most of the children were hesitant, others immediately got dressed in fear of some sort of punishment. Azaria held Lyra's hand as they walked over to get their clothes. The shirt clung to her wet skin, her hair soaked her clothes further.

Once all of the children were dressed, they were brought to the door on the back wall. It led downstairs into a room with a metal table with four leather straps. To the right of the room was another door.

Azaria's heart sank at the sight. ' _What're they gonna do to us!'_

"You there, come here." The man roughly grabbed a little boy, unhooked the straps of his overalls and pulled his shirt off. He then proceeded to strap him to the table and grabbed a branding iron. He swiftly pressed it to the boy's skin, it sizzled and the scent of burning charcoal wafted through the air.

Azaria gagged and slapped a hand over her mouth. The branded boy screamed in pain and tears poured from his eyes. The man unstrapped the boy and ordered him to put his shirt back on. The man repeated the same process of grabbing a child, pulling their shirt off, branding them and unstrapping them.

The whole time, Azaria had one hand over her mouth and the other over Lyra's eyes. She could feel the little girls tears on her hand and it made her heart ache. The man let the last child go and he strode over to Azaria and picked her up.

The straps of her overalls were ripped off and her shirt followed suit. The man laid her on the table and strapped her wrists and legs down tightly. The man grabbed the branding iron once more, Azaria could feel the heat emanating from it as it got closer to her skin. As it pressed against her skin it burned, she screamed as she felt her skin singe away. The sizzle and scent of her flesh were as clear as day.

Lyra screamed, "Don't do this to Zari!" She ran at the man and began hitting him as hard as she could but the man could barely feel it. He kicked her away and glared. One of the older children attempted to catch Lyra, just to be sent flying from the sheer force of her momentum. The older boy hit the wall with the girl in his arms, he held her close to himself in an endeavour to make her feel safe.

The man looked down at the two children against the wall and growled, "That's what you get for trying to defy me."

The pain slowly dissipated from her back and all Azaria wanted to do was itch her fresh wound—she was in shock from the trauma—what had just happened to Lyra didn't even register in her mind. She pulled her arms back in a failed attempt of getting her hands to slip out of the restraints. The man unstrapped her and threw her off of the table, upon hitting the floor she passed out. He stared down at her in disgust and said, "Start putting their collars and them and throw them in the other room."

҉

Three of the four uniformed adults obliged, the kind man was the only one not to immediately listen. "Do what I say, scum. Put collars on the brats. Now!" He sounded angrier than usual, the kind man flinched at his words.

The kind man swallowed back the bile in his throat. What had just happened was making him sick to his stomach. It took every fiber of his being not to punch the vile man in front of him.

 _'I can't stand the way he's treating them—they're not some object to be owned! They're children, dammit!'_ The man knew he couldn't say that; only trouble would follow if he did— so he obliged.

He began putting bulky metal collars on each of the children. Attached to the collar was a metal bar on the front with a chain attached. ' _I'm sorry about this, kids.'_ The child in front of him tried pulling on her collar in an attempt to get it off. He kneeled down to her height and whispered, "Don't try to take it off. It'll blow up if you do…" Shame seeped from every word.

҉

The child looked terrified, her arms dropped as his words sank in. She looked around after he walked away; Azaria was still passed out on the floor, burned into the flesh on her back was a circle with three triangles above it and one triangle below in the middle—the same symbol they had seen on the doors earlier. Against the left wall, Lyra was in the arms of an older boy who had blood trickling from his mouth.

The young girl kept looking around at the horrific sights in the room, she wanted to stop but she couldn't. She felt sick to her stomach, she wanted to help them but she knew there was nothing she could do. All she was, was a powerless teenager in the unfair world she resided in. She was trying to keep her thoughts positive, trying to see the best in the situation she was in. The best part was, she was alive. But was that really the best part?

_'Would it be easier if I were dead?'_

She wanted to think that it wasn't true, that it would only get better from here on out. Would it really get better? Could _anything_ get better in a place like this?

_'Will it only get worse?'_

She couldn't even begin to imagine how it could get worse than this. The mere thought of it getting worse made her heart sink.

* * *

_11:34 p.m_

As the cruel man finished branding the last child he looked down to the girl who had passed out earlier. He smirked, he was happy to see the Claw of the Celestial Dragon's branded onto her. He was enjoying all of the children's suffering.

He grabbed one of the explosive collars and locked it onto the unconscious girl. He scanned the room, seeing that every child had one on now. "It's getting late, let's take them to bed," the twisted man said.

The kind man felt relieved at this knowing their torment would cease for the night. Thoughts of their emotional pain, however, lingered in his mind. He walked over to Azaria and picked her up, following the rest of the men and children through the door to the right of the room.

The room was freezing cold with stone walls and floors. Thin blankets littered the ground and the children began laying down on the floor as instructed by the evil man. After all of them laid down, the kind man rested Azaria on a spot that hadn't yet been taken. He covered her with a blanket and began walking out after the other men he worked with. He stopped at the doorway and looked back; most of the children were already huddling together for warmth. A few tears rolled down his cheek and he promptly wiped them away as he walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was rough, ugh. Were the descriptions okay? What did you like? c:


	3. Charloss

_February 4th, 5:30 a.m_

The door creaked open and the cruel man walked in with the kind one following close behind. "Wake up, brats!" the cruel one yelled.

Most of the children woke up, the ones who didn't were gently shaken awake by the kids beside them. Azaria sat up and rubbed her eyes, her back was sore and her whole body ached. She looked around the room she was in and began inwardly panicking. The last thing she remembered happening was walking into the room with the metal table, and now here she was in a dim, freezing room and covered with a thin blanket.

She glanced around a bit more and eyed Lyra walking over to her. Lyra looked tired, with dark bags under her eyes and her soft, happy demeanour was replaced with one that felt sad and terrified. Nonetheless, when she was beside Azaria, she smiled warmly before asking, "How are you feeling, Zari?"

"My body hurts a lot and I can't remember what happened after walking into that room." Azaria stared at the younger girl with a questioning look.

Her smile faltered for a moment upon recognizing what her friend was talking about. "Well...last night, all of us—" she was cut off.

"Hurry up!" a gruff voice shouted.

Everyone got up and began walking towards the door. While walking Lyra whispered, "I'll tell you when I get the chance."

Azaria simply smiled at her in response.

They were led through the room with the metal table, up the stairs and into the room where they had gotten their clothes the night before. Two of the men each pried open a barrel. "Here's your breakfast, you have 5 minutes."

Knowing their time constraint, all of the children didn't hesitate when going to get their food. This also may be their only chance to eat today after all. Azaria walked up to one of the barrels and grabbed out an apple. It was red and shiny, on top of that it was fresh.

As she bit into it she could hear the crunch, it tasted like heaven in her mouth. It had been _so_ long since she had eaten fresh fruit, let alone something that tasted good. She ate it as quickly as possible, only leaving the seeds and stem intact. Looking around, she noticed that everyone had the fruit by now. She walked back over to the barrel, reached in and grabbed one more.

She assumed that they'd be eating every morning, knowing that she felt okay with eating more than one apple. This was the fullest her belly had been at one time in over a month and it felt good. For now, she thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"Stop eating, time to go." he pointed at Azaria, "One of you, take her to Saint Charloss."

Azaria dropped the unfinished apple in her hand upon hearing those words. She didn't know his name before but now she assumed that was the name of the boy from last month. The one who had chosen _her_ to be a slave. The fear that had faded while she was eating came rushing back.

The kind man walked up to her and gently took her hand, leading her out of the room. Before they stepped through the doorway, she looked back and seen Lyra staring at her. She looked _so_ scared. When they walked out of the house Azaria noticed it was still dark out. The air was cold and she shivered.

Noticing this, the man looked at her and smiled softly. "Don't worry, we'll be inside soon, it's warm in there."

Azaria could only spare him a small smile. The thought of being inside in the warmth was nice, but the thought of being inside with _that_ boy truly scared her. She hoped that this kind man would stay with her the whole time she was inside. She could _feel_ some sort of malicious intent emanating from the mansion.

The malicious feeling made her think of last night. Everything surrounding that room was so hazy, she couldn't make anything out. She couldn't remember a single thing about it aside from the suspicion that it was bad. An idea suddenly popped into her mind—maybe, just maybe, she could ask the kind man what happened. She needed to know about last night, and she didn't want to wait. No matter what it was—how _bad_ it was—she needed to know what happened to her.

They walked inside the palace, the floors and walls were both white. On the walls hung beautiful portraits of quite _unpleasant_ looking people. One of the portraits she spotted was of the man she had seen back home—Saint Rosward. Seeing that man again made her feel sick. She shook the thought away and went back to what she had been thinking about before.

So far, the man holding her hand been nothing but nice to her. None of her gut instincts or feelings were telling her that this man was bad either, so she decided she'd ask him what had happened last night.

"Mister, what happened last night? After we went to that room I mean…" her voice quivered at the end of her sentence. She was trying to prepare herself for the worst to happen but it was hard.

"Hold on a minute and we can talk." the man said. He looked back at her and smiled before looking around for a door. Once he spotted one he stopped for a moment and seemed to focus on it.

After what seemed like minutes, he began walking again until he spotted another door and repeated the action he had done previously. This time, instead of walking further he opened the door and led her inside, closed the door and flipped on a light. The room was a small storage closet—well, it wasn't exactly small but it was compared to the palace she was in.

The walls were lined with shelves that had various cleaning supplies and there were a few mops leaned against the wall as well. The man crouched down to her height and took off his hat before looking at her and smiling warmly. Azaria finally got a good view of him this time. He had shaggy dark brown hair, warm green eyes and long lashes. He looked no older than 20.

"My name is Noah. What's yours?" he asked softly.

Azaria thought for a moment, he was still being overwhelmingly nice—that was making her trust him though. She looked up at him and smiled as brightly as she could. "My name is Azaria."

The man ruffled her hair the same way he had done over a month ago. His expression saddened for a moment in thought. "So…" he began, "you wanna know about last night?" he asked softly.

Azaria nodded almost immediately after his words.

The man thought for a moment, trying to decide how to explain what happened to the little girl in front of him. Finally deciding he'd leave some details out he began to speak, "After we got in _that_ room, my commanding officer…" his expression dimmed as anger and sadness dripped from his voice, "he began to brand all of you kids. I'm…" he paused, trying to gain composure. "I'm so sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it…"

Those words hurt her—a lot. But despite that, Azaria hugged him. She could hear the regret in his words, the sorrow emanating from his very being.

The man was caught off guard by her action. He hadn't been expecting this from her after he confessed to not being able to stop anything. After a moment, he hugged her back, careful not to embrace her too tightly.

Azaria pulled away and stared into his eyes. "It's okay, I promise," she said softly.

The man was filled with happiness—this little girl with still so pure, her soul has yet to be tainted too badly. She barely knew him but she was still sweet to him despite that. He was starting to feel an overwhelming desire to protect her. And so, from that moment he decided. He was going to find a way to get her out of there.

He thought for a moment, he wouldn't be able to get her out while she's still in Mary Geoise. So that left one option: he had to save her when she leaves. Considering Charloss and Rosward had _just_ returned the day prior, it was quite likely that they wouldn't be leaving Mary Geoise anytime soon.

The fact that she was Charloss' personal slave did help matters, however. If he left he would likely bring her along with him. _Alright, contact the boss, find out when they'll leave again, and save her when they're out at sea._

"—ster, mister? Everything okay?" Azaria asked, snapping Noah out of his thoughts.

"S-sorry about that." he paused, " I was just thinking and well—" he smiled warmly, "I'm gonna do my best to get you out of here. It might take a while though, and for that, I'm sorry," he said.

Azaria didn't know what to think of his words at first. The thought of getting out of this place sounded _amazing_ to her, but the possibility that this man way lying popped into her head as well. She thought for a moment and stared into his eyes, she didn't spot any evil intent or a hint of darkness in his eyes. The feelings from this man were all _pure, genuine, feelings._

And with that, she smiled at him brightly and proceeded to tackle him in another hug. "Thank you so much!" she said happily.

The man was slightly taken aback by her actions yet again. He didn't expect this, even with what happened previously. He wrapped an arm around her and ruffled her hair with his other. "You don't have to thank me, I'm happy to do this." he smiled at her and began to stand up. "We should get going now, if we take too long to get to his room someone will suspect something."

"Noah, w-will you be with me the whole time?" she asked nervously.

The man's expression saddened, "I won't be able to…" he was filled with regret as he uttered out his last two words, "I'm sorry…"

Azaria looked down sadly, she could feel his regret—the pain he felt from not being able to protect her. She was doing her best to _try_ to understand where he was coming from—but she was young. She didn't have enough experience in life to understand everything, to forgive everything that a genuinely _good_ person had no control over, even if she knew how they were feeling.

Despite not being able to understand, she gave him a small smile.

Seeing that smile hurt him. Not because it didn't look genuine, but because of the look in her eyes that accompanied it. She was scared—terrified in fact—and it was his fault. Even so, he shook the thought away and held out his hand for her to take.

She grabbed his hand nervously. Noah turned off the light and led her out of the closet. They began walking down the hall and turned left. Azaria eyed a large, spiral staircase. The rails were gold and the steps were white—just like everything else in the palace. As they started walking up the stairs, she began feeling considerably _worse_. There was some kind of malicious feeling coming from upstairs—it was stronger than what she felt when she was still outside.

Her heart was beating faster and faster—fear was welling up inside of her—screams were begging to be let out. She _knew_ something bad was coming. Imagining that vile smirk she had seen ungracefully bestowed on that boys face sent chills down her spine.

* * *

The man could feel the girl gripping his hand tighter and tighter as they came closer to their destination. He looked down at her with his worry-filled eyes, she'd only been getting worse as the seconds passed. He wished he could do something to help but he knew he couldn't yet; it just wasn't the right time.

The man stopped walking when he eyed the door they were walking too, it was white with a gold handle, it also had a gold nameplate on it with the name _Saint Charloss_ carved into it. The man balled his hand into a fist, raised his arm hesitantly and paused for a moment.

Could he really condemn this innocent child to further abuse? If anything he could grab her and run away from Mary Geoise, but considering the security, he wouldn't make it further than the gate. _This is my only option right now._ And besides, if he took off now then he'd never be able to come back.

With a regretful sigh, he knocked on the door and waited for a few moments. His wait concluded when a child demanded, "Open the door already!" to someone already inside.

The door was open quite quickly with little to no elegance. In the man's time there, he had learned that the so called 'gods' enjoyed abusing their slaves and making them be as 'elegant' as possible when doing everyday tasks. Seeing that kind of treatment disgusted him, it made him sick to his stomach.

* * *

Looking inside, the little girl saw an _enormous_ bedroom. Beside the window sat a desk with books and papers scattered about, in between two windows was a very large bed, there were four golden poles holding some kind of tarp over it as well. She'd never seen anything like that in her life, and this room alone almost as—or even bigger—than the home she'd grown up in.

Her eyes landed on a boy— _the_ boy—the very same one who chose her of all people to be a slave. The one who chose her to not only be a slave but his _personal_ slave. She didn't know how to feel. Angry, or upset? Anxious or terrified? So many emotions were swirling inside her very being and it _terrified_ her. She squeezed the man's hand even tighter and her nails began digging into his skin.

He didn't wince in the slightest from the pain. If Azaria had been in the right mindset she'd be surprised—but if she was in the right mindset, her nails _wouldn't_ be in his skin.

* * *

The man was doing all he could to not look down at the girl again—to not pick her up and comfort her with a warm hug. He still had an overwhelming desire to protect her—despite this—he was still trying to think rationally. He mentally thanked himself for being old enough to think with his prefrontal cortex. Even so, he couldn't help himself from growing so emotionally attached to this girl when he barely knew her.

The fact that she was so young and reminded him of some of the orphans back home helped with his odd attachment to her. Another reason that he was attached was that she returned his kindness. She didn't need to, she could've been suspicious of him and tried to ignore him. Hell, even he would be suspicious of himself if he were in her situation.

He shook his thoughts away and stared straight ahead. It hadn't been long since the door was open and the boy was currently preoccupied. Considering how early it was, he assumed the boy was attending to his studies. Noah found it odd that Charloss was studying without his tutor, but dismissed it as the boy hadn't studied much in the past two months.

"I have the girl here for you, Saint Charloss," he said with almost unnoticeable drops of regret, anger, and fear sprinkled throughout.

Luckily, the young 'saint' didn't notice the feelings in his voice. That, or he chose not to care. The boy sighed, obviously annoyed with the book in front of him and said, "Let her in and go tell my father I'm taking a break from my studies for a few hours."

The man nodded and replied with a simple, "Yes, Saint Charloss." before walking the girl in a few steps past the slave that had opened the door.

As he walked out, he looked back at her. Her eyes were on him and filled with fear. He knew what he was doing to the girl—he was hurting her with every step he took away from her. He couldn't do anything, she knew that but couldn't understand yet. Looking at Azaria was only causing him pain. He knew that he had work to do and he needed to get it done faster than before. He needed to save that little girl.

He looked away and continued walking out of the room and down the hall towards Roswards room. All he wanted was to get this whole thing over with—he didn't want to be in Mary Geoise longer than he needed to be. While walking down the hall he looked around, the whole time he had been working in this place he found it odd that there were no surveillance transponder snails whatsoever.

The only explanation he could find _somewhat_ reasonable was that they feel safe here. He was relieved knowing they didn't have any here though. If they did have some, he wouldn't have been able to talk to Azaria earlier. On top of that, he certainly wouldn't have been able to do his work with prying eyes.

He sighed as he spotted a door almost identical to Charloss's, the only difference being the name engraved onto the gold plating. Deciding to not waste even more time, he decided to knock. It wasn't as long as a wait for him to be allowed in, unlike with that kids' room. After being granted entrance, he opened the door and closed it behind him as he walked in.

Instead of being a bedroom, this was Rosward's office. There was a large oval-shaped wooden table in the center of the room. Sitting at the center chair towards the back was Rosward, he had a few books and papers surrounding him. Being the saint he was, he didn't do too much typical office work in here. The area was usually reserved for meetings with other world nobles.

Thinking back to some information he had heard last week on the way here, he remembered Rosward would be meeting with some of the other world nobles soon to speak of the incident a few months back.

The man's voice suddenly interrupted Noah's thoughts when he asked, "What is it?"

Taking a moment to register the words that came from the noble's mouth, he answered, "Saint Charloss requested that I inform you he is taking a break from his studies for a few hours."

Rosward looked visually annoyed at this, his son hadn't done any studying for two months. It took them a whole month to get to Ziema and another month to get back. He looked up from his papers and stared at Noah."Tell Charloss he is to get back to his studies in an hour. If he doesn't let him know he isn't allowed to use his slaves for a week." the saint said firmly, with anger seeping from every word.

"Yes, Saint Rosward. Is there anything else you need?" he asked politely.

"After you speak to my son go assist the others in watching the new slaves."

"Yes sir," he replied and walked out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I had to edit this chapter a bit. If you read it on FFN, I'm so sorry for all the mistakes. I don't think I can fix them anymore because I don't have the chapter on there anymore? FFN is weird.


	4. Pain

_February 4th, 6:10 a.m_

Azaria stared at the man as he walked out of the room. The moment he had begun walking away, all sense of others' emotions had diminished and she was left with her own—the almost suffocating fear. When the other slave closed the door behind Noah, the girl couldn't stop the tears that spilled from her eyes.

She felt scared, betrayed, _alone._ She didn't know what to make of what had just happened. She didn't know what to think, all she could do was experience the wave of emotion that washed over her. Every second that passed felt like minutes, hours even.

In this time, she felt her body stiffen up. She started breathing faster, her heart rate was increasing as well. She wanted to run away, scream for help but nothing would come out. Every sound she attempted to make got caught in her throat, ultimately becoming pathetic whimpers.

She felt as if someone was staring at her—even in the state she was in, she knew who it was. Slowly, ever so slowly, she moved her arms up little by little, they stayed close against her body the whole time. They crossed and her hands slowly slid up her forearm, past her elbow, and finally stopped at her upper arm. She held herself as if her life depended on it and began shaking in fear.

* * *

The young boy in the room sat down his book and rested his head against his hand, gently planting it against his cheek. He then looked over at the girl with a pleased look slowly growing on his face. He looked her up and down, mentally noting how her hair was dishevelled and slightly longer than when he had last seen her. From his position, he couldn't see her face, but he could however see the tears that fell onto the floor. _His_ floor.

He watched her stiffen, make soft whimpering sounds, and begin to hold herself. And after a few moments, she began shaking. He sighed in content as he watched the scene play out before him. Her tears continued to splash onto the ground, her legs quivered as she continued shaking in fear. In his peripheral vision, he spotted his other slave making his way over to his side.

Ignoring it he continued watching the girl and got bored within a few moments of just watching her backside. "Come here," he ordered.

He smirked as he watched the girl freeze up completely and stop shaking, presumably from hearing his voice. He was happy that his voice had such an effect on her, seeing her fear felt _good_. He continued to stare at her unmoving figure, after a few moments it started to anger him. He had given her an order and she didn't listen. He frowned, "Come here. Now." he sounded upset—angry.

The girl moved, shifting slightly left in an effort to spin around. Her movements were rigid, with every passing moment she was slowly turning around more. The boy watched her closely as she did this; he relished in her fear. Now, he could begin to see the side of her face. Her cheeks were stained with tears and had varying shades of red on the corner of her visible eye.

As she continued turning around, he began smirking again. Her eyes were dim, just as they were when he first locked eyes with her. Her sclera had the faintest layer of red encasing it. Seeing her appearance added a feeling of pride in the boy's demeanour. The slave girl was afraid of him, _a_ _god,_ just as she should be.

* * *

As the girl was getting closer to the boy, she was certain she would lose her balance in the few moments it took for her feet to touch the ground as she walked. To avoid this, she only slid them along the marble flooring of the room. She was moving slowly, slower than any human being would deem acceptable even as they were engulfed in a fear so strong that they could barely think.

Every centimetre closer the fear got worse, she was overcome with a sense of dread upon hearing his voice before; how could she possibly feel if she were within an arm's length of him?

"Move faster," the boy demanded, with hints of anger seeping out of every word.

Her body screamed at her to run away, but she couldn't. If she did something worse would come out of what was currently happening, even in her fear-driven state she at least knew that. She listened to what he said and began walking at a steady pace. With every step she took her breathing became even more uneven than it already was.

Because of her steady pace, she reached him within seconds as opposed to the minutes it would've taken if she had continued what she had been doing previously. She was standing in front of him just out of arm's reach—this gave her a false sense of security for the time being.

Now that she was in front of him, the boy smiled, "Remind me of your name," he commanded.

Her mouth opened to speak, however, no words came from her mouth; instead, there were soft, incoherent stutters coming out in their place. Hearing this, the boy frowned.

"Tell me your name now, or _else,_ " he threatened.

Tears continued sliding down her cheeks as she choked out the words, "A-Azaria. My… name is… Skyriaus Azaria."

After she spoke those words, she felt a sense of dread. She hadn't told him and his father her surname back on Ziema, what if he remembered that she didn't tell them? Would she be punished in some way?

The boy frowned for a moment upon hearing her name. "Why didn't you tell me your full name before?" he fumed.

The girl couldn't bring herself to speak, she averted her gaze to the window behind him. She honestly didn't know why she didn't say it before; possibly because of the fear she felt that day?

The boy's frown deepened at her lack of response. He waited a few moments and got fed up with her silence. He suddenly stood up and slapped her as hard as he could. If it were someone older, they would've barely felt a thing; but this girl was young, she was only 7 years old. She fell to the floor and screamed in pain. She had hit both her left elbow and her head, on top of that her cheek stung.

The boy towered over her and smiled darkly, "That's what you get for not answering me."

Azaria cried harder as she stared up at him in fear and the boy's smile widened at this.

* * *

_6:20 a.m_

Noah sighed quietly as he walked back to Charloss' room. He didn't want to see that child again; in all honesty, he was a stuck up brat.

"I wonder if she's alright…" he pondered aloud.

He continued thinking about the girl for a moment and silently prayed she was okay. After a few minutes of walking, he reached Charloss' door. With another sigh, he raised his arm, balled his hand into a fist and knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door was opened by the slave that had opened it previously—a man with black hair and a defeated look on his face. Noah peered into the room, as he did he heard Charloss speak, "Come in."

And so, he did. As he walked in, he saw Azaria on the floor. Her right hand was on her cheek and she was staring up at the boy. This caused the man to become angry, he had only been gone a few minutes and that _brat_ already laid a hand on her.

Noah did all he could to not strike the boy, thankfully with success. Charloss looked over at him with a dark smile that quickly faded into a frown.

" _Why_ are you glaring at me?" he hissed.

With those words, Noah's entire demeanour changed. He went back to a blank face with eyes devoid of emotion as he stared at Charloss. Ignoring the question, he began to speak, "Your father, Saint Rosward, asked me to tell you that you have to go back to your studies in one hour. If you don't, he said he'll take away your slaves for a week."

The boy's frown deepened at that. "Fine. Now get out of my sight." he barked.

Before he left, he glanced down at the small girl on the floor. She was staring at him with pained, fearful eyes.

"W-why? Why are you—"

She was cut off by the boy kicking her in the stomach.

"I didn't give you permission to speak." the boy growled.

Noah looked shocked, that shock then turned into anger. Doing his best to think clearly, he left the room. If he stayed, he may have killed a child and self-proclaimed god or not, he doesn't want that kind of blood on his hands.

As he walked out, he heard the girl wheezing and gasping for air. Leaving her on the floor like that, with that boy, hurt him more than anything. He was hoping the girl would forgive him, but he knew there's no coming back from that; especially because she's so young. When he walked down the hallway towards the stairs, he was filled with regret.

What he had done was the only option that kept him on the right path. If he had done anything else, all of his plans would've been ruined faster than he could snap his fingers. Even with all of the time he had sunk into this, he still couldn't mask his emotions. They always slipped out and he could barely control them sometimes.

_Why did they pick me for this?_

He didn't know why; they didn't have any obvious or logical reason to pick him for the mission. In all honesty, he felt as if he was the least qualified for it. Even so, it was a direct order from his leader so he listened. It wasn't the right time to think about things like this.

He let out a deep breath and began to attempt to steady his breathing. By the time he reached the staircase, every breath were mere milliseconds shy of being uniform. As he descended the stairs, he was thankful that focusing on his breathing was able to calm him down. If he had continued like this, he would've certainly gotten in trouble with his commanding officer.

He walked back down a few long halls until he was in front of the door outside, he opened it slowly and closed it behind him. He looked to his right and began walking to a building that he was certain the children were currently in. It was slightly bigger than the children's 'living' quarters. The outside wasn't anything special, it was only a wooden building with no distinguishable details about it whatsoever.

As he was walking, he realized the sun had already begun to rise. He smiled as he admired the breathtaking mix of cool blues and warm pinks meld together. Noah always loved the sky, it was always beautiful no matter what happened in the world. He felt a twinge of guilt from knowing he was in a better situation than the little girl he promised to save.

_Will I even be able to keep my promise?_

* * *

_6:25 a.m_

Azaria felt as if she could barely breathe, it felt like her breath had been knocked out of her when the boy kicked her stomach. It hurt _so_ much, she didn't know what she would do if it happened again.

_I have to listen to every word he says._

With that thought, she made the decision she'd follow every order he gives her. She looked back up to him, he was still standing tall in front of her. This boy who was only a few years older than her held so much power.

"Stand up."

She placed her hands on the floor and pushed her left leg against the ground in an attempt to push herself up. She was on her knees now and tried standing, she wobbled for a moment and fell down.

The boy laughed mockingly, "Standing up isn't _that_ hard!"

The boy appeared blurry through her tear-filled eyes, yet he still looked terrifying to her despite only being a blur of colours.

She tried standing up again, this time she was able to. She held her arms out as she struggled to keep her balance through her pain and dizziness. The boy continued laughing at her throughout the whole ordeal.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked.

Azaria couldn't speak, she was terrified she would say the wrong thing, so she only shook her head in response.

The boy looked amused as he spoke, "It's because you're a slave now. You will follow my every command or else." He began to laugh darkly, "My last slave girl only lasted a year so you better be careful."

The girl continued staring at him in fear.

"Do you understand?"

She didn't hesitate to answer in fear of backlash. "Y-yes," she muttered.

The boy smirked smugly and sat down in his chair. "Good, now go clean up those tears you left on _my_ floor."

The girl looked confused, "What… should I… clean it with?" she sobbed.

"You really aren't smart, are you?" he sneered. "Rip a piece of cloth from your clothes."

Azaria nodded and walked over to a small puddle of her tears. She knelt down, stared at her clothes and noticed the edges were frayed. She placed her hands on the bottom of her pant leg and tried to tear it. It was hard at first but after a few moments, she was able to make progress. She was able to tear off a small, slightly rounded piece of cloth. Not wanting to disobey him, she began cleaning up her tears from the floor.

* * *

_6:40 a.m_

Noah was in the building with all of the children, his commanding officer and a few of his fellow 'partners', for lack of a better word. The room he was in was a bit bigger than the room the children slept in. The floors and walls were both wooden, and the room had plenty of lighting. There were a few tables that the officers sat at with boxes filled to the brim with files on the children.

The whole time he was gone, the other men had been getting all of the children's information, such as name, date of birth, weight, blood type, allergies, and so on. This was his first time dealing with this kind of thing, and he hadn't realized how much they needed to know about their slaves. It did make sense though, if one of them ate something they were allergic to, they would have to go through the trouble of using the celestial dragons 'precious' resources on them.

He watched as his commanding officer stood up and began to speak, "Alright brats, listen up. Now that we have everything we need, we're going to assign you to your jobs."

"All of the boys, ages 15 and older go follow him," he said as he pointed towards Noah.

Noah sighed inwardly, he already knew where he would have to take them and it wasn't a pleasant area. One of the dark secrets of Mary Geoise; the travelators. They're a vile contraption that was made for the comfort of the world nobles. Below the streets of Mary Geoise, there are slaves that pull them forward at a moderate pace so no one above has to walk.

Noah stood up and walked over to his commanding officer. "Do you have the key?" he questioned.

The man he spoke to remained quiet and handed him an old skeleton key. Noah grabbed it and promptly shoved it in the pocket of his pants.

He turned towards the crowd of children and spoke, "Alright, follow me outdoors everyone."

About ten boys stood up and began walking over to him. Once they were all by his side he began leading them outside. Despite the sun already being up, it was still cold outside and the grass was damp with the morning dewdrops. It was completely silent as they walked until the oldest boy of the group spoke up, "That girl, Azaria, was it? Is she okay?"

Noah was taken aback by the question and stopped for a moment. If he told the truth they might be mad at him, but on the other hand, if he lied, they'd find out the truth sooner or later. He began walking again as he answered the boy, "It depends on how you define being 'okay'."

After those words, everything went back to silence. The boys were scared to find out what had happened to her. They barely knew her and yet she was still important to them. They were all from the same island, they were all raised on the same soil and it would hurt to lose another one of their own.

Noah continued leading them to the back corner of the estate. He felt guilty for not saying what had happened to her, but he didn't think he could bring himself to say it. He frowned when he realized how much his emotions had been affecting him recently. He'd never exactly had an excellent grip on them, but he was at least able to manage them enough so far.

Thinking about it, it could be because of all the children. Before the incident, there were a lot more adults working here as slaves. When going to Ziema, Noah didn't expect them to get so many children. In all honesty, he thought they'd be getting mostly adults and only a few kids.

He shook his thoughts away when he noticed they were getting closer to their destination; a hatch that leads underground. It was placed in a corner of Rosward's property that serves no other purpose aside from the hatch residing there. The hatch itself was steel and some parts of it were turning and orange-brown colour as it began to rust. It looked quite plain as it only had a handle and a keyhole on it.

Noah walked up to it and knelt down, pulled the key out of his pocket and pushed it into the lock. He turned the key until he heard it click, he then pulled out the key and grabbed onto the handle of the hatch and opened it. There was a faint glow coming from inside.

He looked towards the group of boys and said, "Climb down the ladder and wait for me."

A boy that looked around the age of 18 stared at Noah with scepticism.

Noticing this, he decided to assure them it would be alright by saying, "Don't worry. I can't leave you unsupervised so I'll be right down. I promise."

All of the boys looked hesitant but reluctantly began to climb down the ladder one by one. Noah offered a small smile to each of them, but as expected, he didn't get a single one in return. As the last boy climbed down Noah followed and closed the hatch behind him. The ladder was longer than he remembered and the metal was cool to the touch.

When he got to the bottom he looked around. The walls of the area were made of stone bricks, there were a few lanterns hung around. The ground was made of dirt, and the whole area felt cold and damp. The group of boys were waiting for him at the base of the ladder as well. He offered them a small, warm smile that was again, not returned.

"What are we doing here?" one of the boys asked with a slight hint of fear in his voice.

"You'll be working down here," he paused and gestured towards a tunnel towards their left, "follow me this way."

He began walking down the tunnel and the boys followed him. It wasn't too long of a walk, but it was spent in complete silence aside from the occasional coughs from one of the boys. Eventually, they reached their stop. On the ceiling, there were sheets of stone brick connected to gears. Coming down from the ceiling were thick pieces of wire connected to metal rods.

Noah walked over to a man that was overlooking the slaves that worked there. "I brought the new slaves to start working here."

The other man nodded, "Leave them with me. I'll get them started."

Noah looked over at the boys, "Did you catch that?" he asked.

All of the boys nodded in response, and with that, Noah walked off.

* * *

_7:00 a.m_

Lyra and four other girls were being led through the halls of the palace. The little girl looked around in fear, she was doing her best to stay strong as her mother told her before she was taken. It was getting too hard for her now with being collared and branded like cattle. The whole situation made her sick and filled her with fear. As she walked she kept her eyes glued to the floor. She didn't want to look at the paintings hung around the halls. Seeing those people in them terrified her because she knew some of them could hurt her.

The man leading them came to a stop and opened a door. The scent of freshly baked bread, cooked meat, and fruit wafted through the air. The man in the blue and white uniform walked in and gestured for the children to follow him. As Lyra walked in, she took in her surroundings. On the left wall was a row of flat-top griddles and grills, the right wall had a row of ovens. Towards the back of the room, there were a few refrigerators and a door leading into, presumably, a stock room. There was also a long counter going down the middle of the room.

There were also four chefs scattered around the area. Two men were cooking at the grill, a girl was rolling out dough on the counter, and another girl was putting a pan of cookies in the oven.

The officer that led them inside walked over to one of the four chefs in the room, a man with short ginger hair, and began speaking to him, "Only these five were qualified enough for the kitchen, if you want any more we'd be happy to change some of the other children's jobs for you."

"This is fine for now, thank you. You can take your leave if you wish, if not feel free to observe." he paused for a moment, "Just make sure you don't get in our way," the chef replied in a slightly threatening tone.

"I'll just leave them here with you, I have better things to do," the officer said in a bored tone before walking out of the room.

The man that spoke to the officer turned the other male chef, "Hey keep an eye on what I was cooking. I'm gonna go talk to the kids."

"Got it, boss," the other man, who had black hair and tan skin, swiftly chimed.

The man walked over to Lyra and the other four girls and knelt down to their height. He gave a warm smile before speaking softly, "My name is Sage, I'm the head chef here. I know it seems really scary to be in a place like this, but I hope that my kitchen will be a safe space for you all. If you ever need anything, let me or my staff know. Also, you don't have to help for a few days if you don't want to. Just observe to get a feel for how we do things around here."

Lyra was a bit surprised by how kind this man was being. Considering how the other people she'd met had been so far, she thought everyone here would be a monster. This man, he was the reason she was feeling a small spark of hope easing its way into her being. She smiled softly back at him. "I'll help today, mister Sage. Just let me know what I need to do!" she exclaimed.

The other four girls stared at Lyra in surprise, while Sage smiled brightly at her.

"Thanks, little lady," he beamed. Sage looked at the four girls standing around Lyra, "Don't feel pressured to do anything because she is. It's alright, I promise."

The four girls, except for one, each offered him a small—albeit hesitant—smile. The man continued smiling warmly at them and turned back towards Lyra. "How does peeling potatoes sound for now?"

The girl nodded excitedly with a smile still planted on her face.

"Follow me then, I'll get everything set up for you."

He walked towards the back of the room until they reached a small table. "Wait right here for a moment." He walked off into the assumed storeroom.

After a minute he walked out with a large crate in his arms and sat it down beside the table. He opened a drawer at the end of the counter and walked back with five potato peelers in his hand. He sat them on the table and turned towards the group of children, "I brought five of them in case more of you want to help. Make sure you keep all of the skins in one pile and be careful of the potatoes rolling away!" he warned.

"Got it!" Lyra said as she walked over to the table, sat down and hastily grabbed a potato and peeler and got to work.

The man chuckled softly at this and walked back to the griddle he had been cooking at when the children walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think I was writing this in 2019. My writing has definitely improved since then, and I keep running into little mistakes I made where I'd accidentally put a period instead of a comma in my dialogue tags and I just, ugh. Please let me know if you spotted anything I missed! I also keep running into things that I wanna change, like minor things, but I'm not sure if I have it in me to edit for that long lol.
> 
> Ngl I totally changed the name of this chap cause the other title (Slave Girl; it's the chap name on FFN) sounds kinda bad


	5. The Incident

_7:15 a.m_

"Master Charloss, it's almost time to get back to your studies," the male slave informed.

Charloss frowned as he wasn't done playing with his slave yet. He sat back in his seat, "You," he pointed towards Azaria, "grab my books."

The girl struggled to stand up, blood was trickling down her chin from her busted lip. She coughed and gasped for air, causing her to feel as if she was choking. Her whole body ached in pain, her skin had red patches scattered all over that were beginning to bruise. She pulled her legs towards her chest and used the combined strength of her arms and legs to push herself up. As she stood she wobbled, she sobbed loudly in pain and collapsed onto the floor.

"My two-year-old sister can stand up better than you!" he scoffed.

She continued trying to stand but to no avail. Every time she attempted to, she crumbled back onto the floor. She tried to push herself up but her arms were too sore—her strength had seemingly disappeared from her body.

"If you don't stand up right now I _will_ have the island you're from completely obliterated. Including the other worthless _humans_ on it," the boy threatened.

She bawled. The tears wouldn't stop pouring from her eyes, the thought of them all dying because of _her_ was too much to handle. She forced herself to stand up through all of the pain and emotions engulfing her. Azaria trembled in terror and agony as she stared at the boy in his eyes.

The boy stared at her as if waiting for her to fall down again. After a few moments, he smirked. "Good, now go get my books."

The girl nodded, "W-which ones?"

"Let me explain some of my rules again," the boy growled. "You _will_ address me as Master Charloss, you _will_ follow my every command. All failures _will_ be punished as I see fit. Do you _understand?_ "

Azaria nodded hastily in response.

"Use your words, slave. _Do you understand?_ " he hissed.

"Y-yes Master Charloss!" she cried.

Calling him that made her feel sick and just looking at him filled her with terror.

"Good, now go get the two with red covers," he ordered.

"Right away, Master Charloss…" she mumbled as she walked off.

She stumbled the whole walk to his desk, and upon arriving she spotted the books with red covers stacked on each other. She reached towards them and curled her fingers under the spine of the bottom one and picked them up. Walking back seemed even more painful, both mentally and physically. She held the books out towards Charloss, expecting him to grab them. Instead, he glared at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

"Giving you your books… M-master Charloss," she stuttered through her sobs.

"You're going to be the one holding them and turning the pages for me, trash. You," he pointed at the other slave, "hold onto one of them so she doesn't drop them."

The male slave walked over to the small girl and held out a hand for the girl to give him one of the books. After a few moments, she shakily passed one over to him.

The girl looked back at Charloss, waiting for him to give her an order.

The boy frowned, he thought what she had to do was obvious. "Open the book to the first page and hold it up for me. Turn the pages when I tell you to."

And the girl did just that, terrified that he would hit her again if she so much as breathed the wrong way.

* * *

_7:30 a.m_

His muscles were already strained from continuous hard labour. When they got there, the man in charge had made them grab onto the metal rods and pull forward. If they moved too fast, the man would strike them. _Hard._

He'd done physical work a lot back home, but this was on another level entirely. For the past month, he'd barely eaten anything so the younger children would have more than enough. If he ate more, then he would be all right for a few hours. He wouldn't be this exhausted. He didn't regret his decisions though, even with the dizziness he was currently experiencing.

He looked over at the other boys that'd been condemned to this absolute _torture_ alongside him. They weren't fairing much better, they looked thin—malnourished. They didn't eat much more than he did while they were on that ship to hell. He could see them shake slightly with every step they took. It had barely been a half-hour, but exhaustion was already creeping upon them.

_One day, all of these nobles will get what's coming to them._

None of the children, teenagers, or adults deserved this. No one deserves to be a slave.

He looked behind him and took in the horrific sight. He didn't look at the other people before. There were a few people around his age—eighteen—but most of them were older. They all looked tired—broken—as if they'd lost all hope.

_Is this what we'll become?_

He hoped—prayed—that it wasn't the case. He wouldn't become an empty shell of who he was now, he couldn't. They'd get out of here one day, they had to.

But deep down, he knew they wouldn't. He'd heard the stories floating around his village. The Celestial Dragons always get their way—no matter what. They were gods, everything other nobles aspired to be—everything the 'commoners' of this world loathed.

Even knowing he was as insignificant as a bug in the eyes of the world nobles, he vowed to carry enough faith for everyone.

Everything, even reason, was telling him nothing good would happen. From the moment he was conceived, his fate had been written. Becoming a slave was inevitable. Dying in this absolute _hell_ , was unavoidable.

The thoughts just kept flooding his mind, and even so, he held onto his faith—he had to.

* * *

_7:45 a.m_

Noah sighed as he stared down at his watch. It had taken him almost an hour to walk back from what should've only been a twenty-minute walk. He raised his arm up and knocked on the door in front of him.

"Come in," stated the muffled voice of Saint Rosward.

He walked in, shut the door behind him and stood in front of the saint. "I finished all of my duties regarding the slaves, what would you like me to do now, Saint Rosward?" he asked as he placed his arms behind his back.

"Do whatever you want, for now. Check on Charloss in an hour or two. I have a meeting soon, so leave," the man grumbled as he filled out some paperwork.

"Yes, Saint Rosward."

He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked down the halls he felt true disgust. Mary Geoise was beautiful, but the monsters inhabiting it were far from that. Even a child, a _nine_ -year-old boy, was already corrupt.

Noah wasn't looking forward to going back to his room for a third time today. He didn't want to see what he did to Azaria. As much as he hoped Charloss wouldn't lay another hand on her, he knew that little monster would.

He walked out of the mansion, and to yet another building on Rosward's property. This one was bigger than the other two and made specifically for the marines that worked for the saint and his family. It was a large, mostly wooden building. The only interesting thing about it was the world government and marine insignias above the door.

As he walked inside he focused for a moment, scanning the area for anyone else's aura.

_It seems like luck is on my side today._

He walked upstairs and into a communications room. It was quite plain, there was a single table in the middle of the room. Papers were littered all over it, save for the two snails in the middle. One was a large transponder snail, the other a white snail. The man connected the two snails with a wire and swiftly dialled a number into the transponder snail.

After a few moments, the snail's expression turned serious. _"It's been a while, anything new to report, Noah?"_ a deep voice asked.

"Well sir, you see…" Noah drawled.

" _Yes?"_ the other man drawled.

"There's this girl—"

Noah was promptly cut off by the man on the other end, _"I swear if you've fallen—"_

"Sir she's seven!"

" _Noah… that's—"_

"It's not like that!" he blurted out before continuing. "I want to save her. I think there's something special about her—I'm not sure what yet, but I'll let you know when I find out."

The man was silent for a moment before saying, _"Considering you're at Mary Geoise, we may not be able to save her for a long time. Let me know when there will be an opening, and I'll personally come help."_

"Sir, y-you'll really come to help?" Noah stammered in disbelief.

" _Of course, you're one of my most important officers. If she's special, I'll trust your instinct on it. Anyway, onto your report."_

"A-ah yes! Let me see…"

* * *

_8:00 a.m_

The man looked around the other two Celestial Dragons sitting around his table. Those particular faces belonged to Saint Donquixote Mjosgard and Saint Jalmack. Rosward considered waiting for others to show up but ultimately decided against it.

"Mjosgard, where's your father?" Rosward asked.

The Donquixote boy frowned, "He didn't care for this meeting, so he made me attend instead."

"I see. Make sure he hears of this."

"If he gives me the time of day, I'll consider it." he drawled lazily.

Ignoring this, Rosward changed the subject. "So I see that I'm the only one to get more slaves."

"The only slaves of importance I lost were most of my treasured fish-man collection. My daddy said I'll be able to get them back one day, but we have to locate them first before retrieving them," Mjosgard sighed dejectedly.

"I for one only lost a few humans, I'm not worried about it as of now. I do however want to see that _fish_ cooked alive," Jalmack growled out.

"It seems I suffered the worst of it. I didn't think that species cared much for humans, I was quite surprised to see so many of them freed by that _thing_. It would be enjoyable to see him burn," Rosward concurred.

"You suffered the worst of it? Do you know how much I've spent on my fish? Humans are barely worth a thing compared to fish-men," Mjosgard snarled.

"Instead of only looking at my slaves, I put them to work. I think mine is worth more than you fish for that reason," Rosward argued.

Mjosgard frowned deeply, "Don't you get all of your slaves for free from that island? Where was it again?"

"I do, but that's beside the point. It's located in the North Blue."

Mjosgard shuddered in disgust. "I'm surprised you have the gall to even step foot in that part of the ocean."

"Flevance isn't close to the island I went to so I'm not afraid," Rosward said as he continued writing.

"Anyway, what are we going to do about the fish that invaded us?" Jalmack questioned while changing the topic.

Rosward peered down at his paperwork for a moment before replying, "The marines are keeping an eye out for him. They've been ordered to take him in or kill him on sight. On top of that, there's a bounty on his head."

"I hope they take him in, there's a _lot_ I'd love to do to him for what he's done," Mjosgard smirked darkly.

"It doesn't matter what they do to him as long as he's punished for his crimes and never sees the light of day again," Jalmack stated.

"But I want to have him as my slave!"

"You're beginning to sound like my son, Mjosgard." Rosward sighed.

Mjosgard simply glared at him and dropped the subject.

"Now that we've gotten the fish out of the way, what are all of your plans for the future?" Jalmack asked before continuing, "I've been asked to visit some islands in the East Blue in a few years."

"I may take a few trips to Sabaody, but I don't care much for anything else yet. I'm not planning on leaving often until I can take my daughter. I think I'll wait until she's seven or eight," Rosward answered with a bored tone.

"I forgot you had a daughter," Mjosgard said absentmindedly.

Rosward frowned, "How could you forget about Shalria?"

The Donquixote chuckled, "She's two and we've never even seen her. How are we supposed to remember her?"

Rosward glared at him and went back to focusing on his paperwork as the other two saints spoke of their upcoming trips.

* * *

_8:30 a.m_

The girl sat in the chair peeling the last potato from the crate. As the last piece of skin was placed in the pile, she jumped up and shouted proudly, "I'm finally done!"

The other four girls near her flinched at the sheer volume of her voice while the head chef and his staff began howling in laughter. The young girl had just spent well over an hour peeling potatoes, and she was proud of it.

"Good job!" he beamed before turning towards the male chef next to him, "Can you clean the potatoes? I'll work on the skins."

"On it, boss!" the other man said as he walked over to the table and began putting all of the vegetables back into the crate.

Meanwhile, Sage was grabbing a few pans and a large bowl. He sat the pans on the counter and brought the bowl over to the table.

"Would you mind putting all of the skins in here for me, please?" he smiled warmly.

"Of course mister Sage!" the girl said happily.

"Thank you, little lady!" the man said jovially before walking off to gather a few more items.

The girl grabbed handfuls and handfuls of potato skins and placed them into the bowl. Considering how much there was, the other girls finally began to help her. With five pairs of hands, they finished by the time Sage walked back.

"Are you girls hungry?" he asked as he began mixing some olive oil in with the peels.

"Very!" they all exclaimed in unison.

Sage smiled warmly at them and brought the bowl over to the counter. He placed the oil-covered skins in a layer on several sheets and then sprinkled salt over them before placing them in an oven.

"They should be done in fifteen minutes!"

The young girls smiled brightly at him, thankful for the speck of light they found in a place so utterly filled with darkness.

* * *

_9:00 a.m_

Her eyelids were heavy and her vision was beginning to blur even more. She had been standing in the same place for _so_ long, turning page after page for the vile boy in front of her. Warm pain surged throughout her head from crying on and off for the past few hours.

"Turn the page."

She reached her right hand over to a page, making sure to grab only one, and pulled it over to the other side. The boy in front of her was scanning the pages slowly, taking in all of the information of the text. He occasionally sighed, bored of reading for hours on end.

Azaria began to feel dizzy in a way, she felt as if she was spinning despite both her and the world being completely still. She didn't want to feel afraid, but she knew that she'd fall unconscious soon. She knew the boy would be furious. She knew the boy would hurt her again. She knew she wasn't safe.

She tried to steady her breathing, hoping that if she calmed down then she'd make the dizzy feeling go away. She took a deep breath in and held it for a few moments. Her vision began to fade as she let out the breath. The book slid from her hands and she collapsed onto the floor.

9:10 a.m

Noah knocked on Charloss's door. He'd been dreading coming back but it was no use worrying about anything.

"Let him in!" Charloss growled angrily from inside his room.

After a few moments, the door was opened by the male slave.

Noah stared in horror. On the floor was a small girl, Azaria. He'd... been expecting something like that to happen—even so, it didn't make it any less hard to look at. She had bruises forming on her skin. From the way she was laying limp, he assumed she was unconscious as well. The worst of it all was how the boy was kicking her ruthlessly.

"Charloss..." Noah breathed out.

The boy stopped and looked over towards the man who had just spoken. "What is it?"

He waited for a moment before answering so he could attempt to calm the anger flaring inside of him.

"Your father sent me to check on you," he informed with hints of anger seeping from every word.

Charloss glared at him, clearly upset by his presence, "Get me a bucket of cold water."

Noah nodded and swiftly began walking out of the room. He was absolutely fuming with anger. Celestial Dragons lack empathy and it disgusted him.

* * *

_9:15 a.m_

The man walked back into Charloss' room, a bucket of water in hand. He didn't bother knocking this time as the boy was expecting him.

"I'm back with the bucket of water you requested, Saint Charloss," he said as he walked over to the boy.

"Good, dump it on her, _now_ ," Charloss barked.

Noah hesitated, but he did it anyway. He poured every last freezing cold drop of water in the bucket onto the small child. Every millisecond it took for him to complete the action, he felt regret. Every second after, he felt anger—anger towards the boy. The boy who was raised in the Domain of the Gods. The boy who was raised to lack empathy. The boy who was raised to believe he himself was, in fact, a god.

And every second after those feelings, he felt disgusted. Disgusted in himself, because he not only felt that way towards a child but also couldn't save another child. He felt disgusted by the world nobles because they think they're gods—because they abuse their power. Finally, he felt disgusted by the world government to allow something like this to happen.

"This dumb girl still isn't waking up!" Charloss kicked the girl again.

This snapped Noah out of his thoughts. "I'll take her to medical and get her looked over if you'd like!"

"Fine but take her back to me the moment she wakes up unless I'm asleep," Charloss hissed.

Noah gently scooped the girl up in his arms and rushed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of writing this, only the first chapter is still out; I just realized that I only fixed Charloss' name in one chapter. I have to go back and edit now, ahh.


	6. A Moment of Peace

_9:45 a.m_

Azaria wasn't sure when it started, but she was hearing small snippets of a conversation. It was cutting in an out—she couldn't even begin to understand what they were talking about. There were two notable words she heard. One word was familiar to her, that one is 'trauma', but there was also an unfamiliar word, 'contusion'. She couldn't remember exactly what trauma was, but it certainly wasn't something good. That scared her.

She wanted to find out what was going on, so she tried to open her eyes but it was as if they were glued shut. She tried to move her arm, when that didn't work she tried to move her finger. When she couldn't even twitch, she gave up on that idea and took a new approach—she attempted to speak. She couldn't part her lips but she could at least just barely make a sound. A quiet, short whimper came from her throat.

The girl kept trying to move, trying to open her eyes. It was hard at first, she felt like she didn't have control of her own body. She could feel everything; she could feel the soft bed beneath her, the metal collar around her neck, the blanket on top of her and the pillow her head was resting on. Despite all of that, it was still _so hard_ to move. On top of that, it felt impossible to breathe and it also felt like she had something on her chest. With every second that passed, she was able to move a little more. It started with a twitch and led to her being able to move parts of her hand.

Finally, she was able to open her eyes; the moment she did she was assaulted by the fluorescent lights of the room she was in. She blinked rapidly as she tried to get used to the brightness. She looked around as best she could from her position; the ceiling and walls were white and she couldn't see much else. After a few minutes, she was able to move completely; she sat up and seen two people in the room. The first was Noah, and the other was a man in a white lab coat.

"What happened?" she asked in a small, raspy voice.

The men looked towards her, Noah's face was filled with worry. He blinked a few times before running over to her side. "Are you okay?"

She thought for a moment; was she okay? Her whole body was in pain, she was scared and could barely remember anything. The most prominent memory in her mind was the face of that boy, _that monster_. She closed her eyes and pulled her legs towards her chest so she could hold herself. A little over a month ago she was happy—she was _safe_. But now, now she was in a hell that words couldn't even begin to describe. Was this what would happen every day for the rest of her life? What exactly was 'this' that was happening to her? She opened her eyes for a moment and glanced at her arms; they were covered in bruises.

She closed her eyes again and memories from earlier that morning began flooding back to her. The girl remembered every word that came from the boy's mouth, every word made her _sick_. The memories of every slap and kick from him just made her pain flare. The memory of him threatening to hurt her island, _her people_ , terrified her even more. All of the thoughts racing through her mind were almost overwhelming. They also supplied her with an answer to Noah's question.

She looked towards the man kneeling beside the bed, her eyes began to gloss over with tears. "I… I don't know if I'm okay," she breathed out. "I don't know if—" her words caught in her throat and tears began to flow from her eyes. "I don't know if I'll ever be okay," she forced the words out as she cried, her voice filled with distress and terror.

Noah stared at the girl in equal parts shock, worry and anger. He was shocked by her answer despite expecting something like it, he was worried because of how scared and utterly _broken_ she looked, and he was angry at himself for not being able to protect her. He was furious at Charlos for making her scared, for hurting her. He hugged the small girl in front of him tightly to try to make her feel safe, even just a little.

"Sorry to interrupt your moment but can I say just a few words?" the man in the lab coat asked.

"A-ah! Yeah of course, sorry about that," Noah stammered out.

The man walked closer to the bed, knelt down and looked Azaria in the eyes. "I'm gonna keep you here till tomorrow. You deserve a break from this mess." He turned towards Noah. "Tell Saint Charlos she won't wake up anytime soon. If he gets upset you should tell him there's nothing I can do about it."

Relief washed over Noah's face and he smiled. "Thank you for keeping her safe." Despite the relief he felt, worry still soaked his words.

"Any good doctor would do the same thing," he began, "and I promise I can keep her safe for the time being," the doctor assured.

Azaria wanted to feel relieved that she didn't have to see that boy again until tomorrow but she couldn't bring herself to. She was still scared—terrified that he'd hurt her again. She _knew_ he would, there was no way he would refrain from inflicting even more pain on her. She brought her hand to her face and ran her thumb over her bottom lip, it felt oily and swollen. Before today she wasn't used to physical pain, she'd always been a careful and relatively quiet child that avoided danger.

She felt exhausted from everything that was happening and wished for everything to end or at least pause for the time being. "Can I sleep for a while?" she wiped away her tears as she voiced her question.

The doctor looked at her, pity flashed through his eyes for a moment. "You can rest as long as you want today. When you wake up I'll get you something to eat if you'd like."

"Thank you, mister doctor," she smiled at him gratefully.

Noah took the girls' hand in his own, "I'll go talk to Charlos and let him know you won't be back until tomorrow. I'll come to check on you when I get the chance, okay?"

The girl nodded, leaned in and hugged him, "Thank you, Noah."

The man hugged her back and left the room.

"Would you like anything to help you rest?" the doctor asked.

Azaria was exhausted so she declined his offer. He simply nodded in response and walked to the other side of the room. She lied back down drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_10:00 a.m_

The boy took a bite of cake as he flipped the page of his book. He was bored and annoyed now that his slave was gone. He enjoyed hitting her, the pain in her cries was music to his ears. The fear that completely overcame her was a _beautiful_ sight to watch. Charlos couldn't wait to get her back so he could hear her cries of pain and watch her struggle to move again. He sighed as he began rereading a paragraph for the third time. Halfway through reading it, someone knocked at the door.

He perked up, expecting his slave to be just outside his room. He looked towards the male slave by his side, "You! Get the door. Now!"

The slave hastily walked over to the door, opening it to reveal a simple marine standing just outside. Charlos frowned when he didn't see the girl with him. "What is it?" he grumbled disappointedly.

"The doctor said she won't wake up for a while, it may not be until tomorrow. He said there isn't anything he can do about it," said Noah.

Charlos' frown deepened into a scowl as he took the words in. Those words were not what he wanted to hear in the slightest. "Get out. I don't want to see you back here until she's with you," he growled.

The brown-haired man froze up for a second at the boy's tone of voice. Charlos sounded _very_ upset. "Yes, Saint Charlos!" he blurted out before almost sprinting away.

* * *

_2:00 p.m_

Her head was pounding with a headache as pain coursed through it. She opened her eyes and was greeted by the same fluorescent lights from earlier. She sat up and was relieved that she could actually move this time. "Mister Doctor?" she called out.

"I had a feeling you'd be waking up soon," the man said as he walked over to her. "Here, I have some food for you if you're hungry." He sat a tray on a table beside her bed. The doctor pulled a chair beside her and sat down.

"Thank you, mister," Azaria said quietly. She reached over to the tray, grabbed a bowl and spoon and began eating. They were mashed potatoes, one of her favourite foods. She used to ask her mom for them all the time. She smiled at the man, silently thanking him again for the food.

The man took hold of a pen and clipboard, "I have a few questions to ask if you don't mind."

Azaria nodded in response to him as she swallowed a spoonful of food.

"What's your name?"

"Skyriaus Azaria," she replied.

The man jotted down her name. "When were you born?"

"1502." She took another bite of food and smiled.

"Do you have any allergies?"

She shook her head, "None that I know of."

The man nodded and wrote on the clipboard.

"What's your blood type?"

Azaria tilted her head in bemusement, "I don't know."

"Alright, after you finish eating I'll take a sample of your blood. How did you sleep earlier?"

She thought for a moment, how _did_ she sleep exactly? It wasn't very well because she couldn't move after waking up. "Not the best, I couldn't move after I woke up and it was hard to breathe."

"How long did it take for you to be able to move again?" he asked in a worried tone.

"I'm not sure, maybe a few minutes?" she answered.

"Have you had any trouble sleeping recently?" the doctor inquired.

"A bit, I've been having nightmares every night…" She sat the bowl back on the tray and pulled the blanket over her arms.

"And you've been stressed, yes?"

Azaria nodded.

"I think you may have experienced sleep paralysis. Luckily it isn't physically harmful because there isn't anything I can do to treat it, and given your situation, there's not anything you can do either aside from just hoping it doesn't happen again."

She didn't know how to feel about that. It wasn't a scary experience but it certainly wasn't pleasant either. "Do you have anything else to ask me?" she asked.

The man shook his head, "No, but if you don't mind I'd like to take a sample of your blood now."

Azaria was a bit scared hearing that. She didn't like needles and she was scared of it hurting. Despite how she was feeling, she knew the doctor was just doing his job. "I don't mind."

* * *

_11:30 p.m_

The door slammed shut, leaving the room pitch black. All of the children had just been brought to bed after bathing and eating. The older boys were the most exhausted of all the children. Five girls looked relatively happy, some of the older girls looked scared, some of the children were covered in dirt prior to their baths and others just looked tired. There were thirty-one children in the room.

"Did they ever—" he yawned, "bring Azaria back?" the oldest boy asked with a worried tone.

"Zari isn't here?" Lyra questioned, sounding as if she was about to cry.

"Maybe Charlos is just keeping her late," suggested one of the teenage girls.

"Remember what that one guy said when bringing us to our job? After you asked if she was okay he said it depends on how you define the word," one of the boys said.

Hearing that scared Lyra and the oldest boy. Lyra began to cry into the thin blanket she was clutching. She was terrified her friend wouldn't come back. She had a good day considering her situation. Knowing that Azaria wasn't okay—that she might not be safe—made her feel guilty. The boy glared in the direction of the door, he didn't know Azaria but she was still one of his own. He had just gone through hell and had multiple lacerations on his back, because of that he even had to get new clothes. If he and the other boys made it back after what they went through, what could possibly be happening to her?

"What are—" she cut herself off with a sob, "we gonna do if she…" she hesitated for a moment, "doesn't come back?"

"We just keep praying we make it through this alive," said a boy.

That made the oldest boy mad. "She's one of our own! How can we just let this happen!?" he fumed. The volume of his voice made several of the children flinch in fear and shock.

"If we try doing anything we're just endangering more of our own. We're powerless here! Don't you remember what our parents said when the ship was coming?"

This made the oldest boy freeze. He remembered what his parents said—he had to listen to every word the world nobles spoke. He knew that if he did anything to defy them there was a high chance he would die. The lacerations on him proved that and they weren't even inflicted by one of the nobles.

"Could they be keeping her overnight?" someone asked, pulling the oldest boy out of his thoughts.

"Maybe, I think her _job_ is vastly different from ours so it's a possibility," a girl pointed out.

"If she's not back in a few days I'm going to do something about it. Now let's all get some sleep, we'll probably be up early tomorrow," said the oldest boy.

* * *

_February 5th, 9:00 a.m_

"Tell Charlos he should refrain from hitting her for a while," the doctor instructed.

"Even if you didn't say that, I was going to tell him anyway," Noah said with hints of anger in his voice.

The doctor chuckled, "Of course you were. I would expect nothing less from you." He turned towards the girl and began to rub ointment on her lip, "I'm sorry I couldn't keep you here longer; if I did Charlos might've gotten suspicious. Do you think you'll be okay for today?"

Azaria nodded and gave him a sad smile. "I think I will be as long as he doesn't hit me," she whispered. She didn't believe her words and she didn't even have to feel Noah's and the doctor's emotions to tell they didn't believe her either. She knew that just being near Charlos would terrify her.

"Are you ready to go?" Noah asked hesitantly.

Azaria nodded and stood up, "As ready as I'll ever be."

Noah took her hand and led her out of the infirmary. The walk to Charlos' room would've been silent if it weren't for all of the thoughts bombarding Azaria's mind. She was scared to see him again, the memory of him hitting her wouldn't stop flashing through her mind. Ever since she woke up she felt scared and terrified because she would see him again soon.

After they walked up a flight of stairs Noah broke the silence. "I'm sorry that I can't protect you…" his voice was barely audible and filled with sorrow.

Luckily she was still in a state capable of letting her feel his emotions. He wasn't lying to her, every word he spoke was true. She stopped and hugged him tightly, "You don't have to say sorry… it's okay…"

Noah hugged her back and ruffled her hair, "Thank you, Azaria." He sounded happy, grateful even. He didn't know why but her words calmed him. He let go of her and smiled warmly, with that, they continued walking.

Before she knew it, they were in front of his door. A second later they were walking inside and then she was in front of him. Charlos was staring at her with anger-filled eyes. He looked her up and down the same way he had done the day before. She felt as if something was crawling all over her, felt absolutely _disgusting_.

Every second of silence felt like minutes as the boy stared at her. "Saint Charlos, the doctor wanted me to tell you that you should refrain from hitting her for a while," Noah said.

Charlos frowned and glared at both of them. "What would happen if I did hit her?" he hissed.

Those words made Azaria freeze up, she felt like she was going to be sick. Her eyes began glossing over with tears, she took a sharp breath in and held it for a few seconds. She clutched Noah's hand tightly and her nails began digging into his skin.

"If you do and she passes out again, she may be in the infirmary even longer next time," Noah stated.

Charlos growled like a rabid dog and slammed his book shut. " _Fine_. I'll refrain from striking her for now. Just get out."

Noah stiffened for a moment and hesitantly pried Azaria's hand off of his own. He looked at her with eyes filled with equal parts pity and regret before walking out of the room.

Azaria felt even more scared than she did yesterday, she was frozen in fear as she watched the boy stand up and begin walking over to her; he looked furious. She blinked and tears began streaming down her eyes. She was alone, _alone_ with this boy, this _monster_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I interacted with someone on the Fanfiction subreddit today and it was so sweet. Totally recommend it if anyone wants to be in a sweet community. Also, there are 10 chapters of this fic currently completed, and should all be up on here by the end of the month? And expect another update (chap 11) in early March!
> 
> btw I have a school thing, so early update today c:


	7. Cherished

_9:15 a.m_

Azaria yelped in pain as Charlos grabbed her hair and began roughly pulling her towards his bed. She was scared and confused—she thought he said he wouldn't hurt her. He was walking fast and it was hard for her to keep up, eventually, she slipped and fell. As she was falling, the boy noticed and loosened his grip, letting her hair run through his fingers until it hit a tangle. She whimpered when she felt her strands of her hair getting ripped out. By the time she hit the floor, the boy had a handful of her hair in his hand.

"Get up," the boy commanded.

While his voice was by no means terrifying or intimidating, Azaria couldn't help but let it scare her. She'd barely spent any time around him, but she already knew he was a monster. His voice would have frozen her in fear but she knew that he would do a lot worse if she didn't get up.

"Good, you got up almost immediately this time. It's so nice to have a slave learn so fast!" Charlos exclaimed. He then dropped the hair in his grasp and turned towards the male slave in the room. "Clean this up."

The male slave nodded and rushed over to begin picking up and disposing of the hair. Charlos grabbed Azaria by the hair again and spoke as he pulled her towards his bed, "Since I still have to study, I'm going to do you a favour and let you sit down as you hold my book today. I don't want you passing out again after all."

She was still scared but she was thankful that she wouldn't have to stand for so long again. Despite Charlos pulling her along by her hair, maybe he _did_ have a soft spot after all. As quickly as the thought came, however, it went away as the memories of yesterday flooded into her mind. The memory of him slapping and kicking her over something _so_ small terrified her all over again.

The boy yanked her forward and let go as she fell on the bed. He sat down beside her and yawned. "There are some books beside you, just grab one and do the same you did yesterday," Charlos drawled.

Azaria sat up and quickly wiped away her tears before grabbing one of the books and opening it to the first page. She held it in front of her face so she wouldn't have to look the boy in his eyes. She was happy she didn't have to do anything difficult. It was nice not having to force words out of her mouth or endure abuse from Charlos. Her body was still sore from the day before, the colour of her bruises was a mix of blues, purples and reds; it hurt for her to even look at them.

"Lower that, let me see your face."

She froze as she heard those words. Her hold on the book loosened for just a moment and she almost dropped it. Azaria clutched it tightly and lowered it below her face, making sure to avert her eyes from the boy in front of her. Tears were falling down her cheeks but they were much slower than before.

The boy stared at her face for a moment and noticed the mix of anguish and confusion in her expression. "What are you confused about?" he questioned.

The girl stayed silent and clamped her eyes shut. The boy scowled at this. "Answer me, _now_ ," Charlos demanded.

Azaria hesitated for a moment. "W-why did you…" she paused, "Master Charlos… why did you h-hurt me when you said you wouldn't?" From the whine in her voice, it was clear that the girl was forcing the words out.

The boy chuckled. "I said I wouldn't _strike_ you! I never said anything about not hurting you!" he sneered.

Hearing that broke her a little. She bit her cheek, tears cascaded down her face as she cried in anguish.

* * *

_9:45 a.m_

Noah plopped on his bed, pulled his pillow over his face and groaned as he recalled his morning:

_As they were about halfway through their walk to the travelators the oldest boy stopped walking, causing the boys behind him to stop as well. "Where was Azaria last night?" he growled._

_Noah turned around and stared the boy in the eyes, "We had her in medical overnight. She wasn't seriously injured, don't worry."_

_Some of the younger teenagers looked relieved, the oldest however glared at Noah with anger-filled eyes. "If she wasn't 'seriously injured', then why did you keep her_ overnight _?" he snarled._

_Noah flinched from his tone and bared teeth. "She needed a break! We made sure she was safe for as long as we could…"_

_The boy's expression softened a little as he walked up to the older man. Without warning, he suddenly pulled his arm back and thrust it forward to punch Noah in the stomach. The man felt as if the air just got knocked out of him, he wheezed as he gasped for air._

" _That's for not protecting her!" the oldest boy growled._

_After taking a few deep breaths, he looked up and smiled at the boy who had just assaulted him. "I guess I deserved that, huh?" His voice was barely above a whisper._

_The boy looked shocked and confused;_ _he fully expected to get punished for what he'd done but now, of all the things he could have done, the man chose to smile at him._

_Noah promptly answered the boy's confusion, "I would never dream of laying my hand on an innocent child."_

_He blinked a few times, still confused by the officer's actions. After a moment, he smiled back, "Sorry about that, but thanks for it."_

_Noah laughed softly at the boy's words and looked around at the other teenagers. Some were shocked, others looked a bit upset and a few were smiling. He was a bit shocked himself at some of their reactions but ultimately decided against saying anything about it._

It'd been just over three hours and he was _still_ in pain from the boy punching him. "This is definitely gonna bruise…" he muttered.

He didn't realize kids could hit so hard, but thinking back he hit harder than that at the boy's age. That was a different story, however.

_I wonder how everyone back home is doing. I can't wait to go back, I can't stand another second in this place._

He pulled the pillow off of him and smiled as he remembered everyone. The only person he had any contact with since leaving was his boss and that just wasn't enough for him. What he missed most were the children he had the opportunity to mentor and help raise. The memory of their smiles only made him smile more.

He glanced at the time on his watch; he wouldn't have to get back to work for a while. He yawned, "Guess I'll take a nap." With that, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep as he thought of his home.

* * *

_11:00 p.m_

Azaria all but ran out of the room when Noah came to get her. Now, they were walking through the halls of the mansion to go outside.

"How did today go?" he asked softly.

She smiled at him, "It was okay. All he did was study all-day so he didn't pay lots of attention to me!"

Noah smiled back and ruffled her hair, "I'm glad you're alright."

Her smile brightened when he ruffled her hair. "How was your day, mister?"

"Hmm…" he hummed. "It was alright, I pretty much do the same thing every day. I had quite an _interesting_ conversation with one of the other children this morning though," he laughed nervously.

"What was it?" she asked curiously.

They turned into another hall. "Well, they asked about how you were doing. I thought it was really sweet that they did," he replied.

Azaria tilted her head to the side, "Was it Lyra?"

"No, no. It was one of the older boys."

That confused her, she hadn't talked to any of the boys from her island before so why would they ask about her? "Did you let them know I'm okay?"

He ruffled her hair again and winced slightly as he remembered the pain that came from the conversation, "Of course I did!"

"Thank you, mister!"

* * *

After a few more minutes of walking, they approached a door and walked outside. As they were walking towards the building the other slaves were in, Noah turned towards her, "Do you know what my favourite thing to look at is?"

She shook her head, "Uh-uh."

He laughed for a moment at her response, it reminded him even more of the children back home. "It's the sky, or to be more specific, it's the sunrise and sunset," he beamed.

"Why is that?"

"The mix of all the colours is simply beautiful is all. If you ever get the chance to see either again, you'll know what I mean immediately," he said in awe.

The little girl giggled and looked towards the dark sky. It had been over a month since she had seen one of them and she missed it.

"When we get inside, I'll have to take you to the baths so be prepared for that, okay?"

Azaria nodded and they made their way to the door of the building and walked in. She was greeted by the same grey walled room with no decor that she'd seen the day prior. Noah led her into the room on the left, the inside was steamy and had a few baths. She recognized it as the one she'd been in the first day she was in Mary Geoise. She wasn't as scared as she was before and she wasn't sure why. It may have been because she had a better day or that she didn't feel like something awful was going to happen again.

Inside the room, there were a few other children and two other men in white and blue uniforms. She spotted some of the older boys on one side of the room and Lyra with four other girls on the opposite side. Seeing them, Azaria walked towards the edge of the bath they were at and hopped in after getting undressed. The water almost burned against her cool skin. The other girls looked a bit shocked to see her, said shock morphed into fear and worry.

"Zari, what happened!" shouted Lyra.

Her shouting caused everyone in the room to look towards her. The older boys' eyes flickered over to Azaria in confusion for a moment before their expressions contorted into anger. The girl was covered in purple and blue bruises.

"I-I'm fine, don't worry!" she stammered in response.

Everyone, of course, didn't believe the battered girl. Lyra pulled the girl into a hug, causing Azaria to flinch when the younger girl's hand brushed against the burn on her back.

"Five more minutes," the cruel man called out.

His voice caused the boys' anger to diminish. He was like a reminder that they'd be punished if they acted out. The next five minutes were spent in silence, save for the occasional sloshing of water. After they were done bathing they were instructed to get dressed and then they were led into the room she'd woken up in the day prior. The rest of the children were already inside, most of them were asleep and a few looked up to see who was coming in. Azaria and the others were ushered inside by the uniformed men.

After the door was shut behind them, there was a soft light seeping in from the cracks. The light aided the oldest in the room get to Azaria. He crouched down next to her. "What happened yesterday?" he asked, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Nothing," she murmured.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, "Please tell us. We _have_ to know."

"Nothing happened at all!"

He frowned, "We saw all of those bruises. You can't say _'nothing happened'_ ," he snapped.

She flinched at his tone.

He took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that…" he apologized. "Just please tell us what happened."

She hesitated for a moment. "T-that boy… he wouldn't stop hitting me yesterday…" she breathed out. Tears began to well in her eyes.

He pulled her into a hug, unsure of what to say. Everything he could think of would only be a lie or a promise he'd never be able to keep.

As he hugged her, the memories of Charlos flooded back to her yet again. Tears flooded her eyes and all she could feel was anguish. She shakily lifted her arms out from under the blanket and hugged him back. After a few seconds, she felt another set of arms wrap around her. These ones were much smaller.

"We're here for you, Zari," Lyra whispered beside her.

Azaria attempted to be quiet as she sobbed but every cry escaped her throat, all of which were muffled by the boy she was hugging. Her cries died down after a while, as they did her hold on the boy loosened. When she was silent the boy gently laid her down and found that both young girls were asleep. He smiled and went to sleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra update cause I did well w my school thing c: Chapter is short, sorry!


	8. Eileen

_February 13th, 12:00 p.m_

One week—that's how long her somewhat peaceful days lasted. Once again, she was shaking and crying on the floor as the boy kicked her relentlessly. By now, her old bruises were yellow with hints of purple. New bruises, light red patches with darker red dots, were being added to her skin by the second.

Slowly, she looked up at him, it took energy she barely had but she _prayed_ the look in her eyes would help her plea. "Please stop!" Azaria screamed out in desperation.

Her expression certainly did _not_ help.

"You, of all people, really think you're in a position to ask _me_ to stop?" Charlos laughed. "You really aren't smart, are you?" he scoffed and kicked her again.

She already knew she wasn't in a position to ask anything of him, but having it confirmed like that only made the hope she'd regained in the past week begin to fade. She had no response to his cruel words, not like she could bring herself to speak now anyway; her pain—emotional and physical—was far too great.

" _This_ ," Charlos kicked her harder than he ever had before, "is for not calling me 'Master Charlos'," he kicked her again, "like I told you to!"

Her eyes burned from tears and her throat tightened as she choked out a cry. She felt _so_ alone; all she wanted was to have someone to hold her, to protect her from the monster towering over her helpless form.

After a while, Charlos left the still conscious girl twitching and silently sobbing on the floor. As much as he would love to continue listening to her pathetic cries as he abused her, he didn't want a repeat of the last time he had his fun. Besides, he had to get back to his studies or his father would be upset. The boy was a bit sad that he wouldn't have his little slave assist him as she usually did. He quite enjoyed watching her avert her eyes from him. Her eyes were always filled with fear and anguish.

He sat on his bed and smiled as he recalled what she was like when he first laid eyes on her: a scared girl slightly younger than him that had eyes filled with terror. When he saw how scared she was, he knew he had to have her. In the past week, she had grown more hopeful, _that_ angered him. Charlos didn't enjoy seeing her almost filled with hope and on top of that, he craved seeing her in pain once more which led to him lashing out at her.

The last week was an awful one for the boy; he wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. Begrudgingly, he listened to the words passed onto him. Those words had advised him to refrain from hurting the girl until she healed. He may not have been given a specific amount of time to wait, but he assumed it was until her injuries were gone. Luckily for him, he'd been able to show restraint, the girl wasn't _too_ injured so he could continue having her as his slave. Unluckily for her, she'd still have to suffer with him.

His eyes landed on a book and he sighed as thoughts of his education slipped into his mind, dragging him from his previous thoughts. Charlos wasn't looking forward to it, but he would have to get back to learning sooner rather than later.

* * *

_February 15th, 12:00 p.m_

Lyra bit into a warm, gooey cinnamon bun and hummed happily with a big smile on her face. "Thank you Verdie!" she chimed.

"Lyra you already know you don't have to thank me, or any of us in the kitchen. We're happy to feed you, girls!" Verdie was one of the two female chefs. She had dark skin, beautiful blue eyes and dark hair pulled up into a bun.

Four other girls were happily eating pastries as well. The chefs were happy to see that all of the children were warming up to them and they took pride in knowing they could make their days decent instead of awful like some of the other people in Mary Geoise.

Sitting at a small table were five little girls, Sage and Verdi. They were on their break and made something sweet for everyone.

"Mister Sage, why's everyone here nicer than everyone else?" Lyra asked.

The head chef looked at her in confusion and surprise. Without thinking, he answered honestly, "Well I guess you could say that we're not really any different from slaves. We just haven't exactly been given the label."

The five little girls stared at him half in surprise, half in pity.

Verdie brought her hand to her forehead and sighed in disappointment.

"Boss!" shouted a woman from another part of the room.

Apparently, the man had been talking loudly or the kitchen was quiet enough for all of his staff to hear him. It took him a few seconds to realize what he'd done—or said, rather—wrong. "Ah… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He looked over to the woman who yelled at him, "Sorry, Sarah."

Sarah was a woman in her late twenties; she had brown hair—also tied into a bun—grey eyes, and light skin.

"Not forgiven."

And she was also a bit rebellious towards her head chef.

Lyra giggled and continued eating her cinnamon bun.

* * *

**҉**

In Mary Geoise, everyone's day was like a routine. There were little changes; with the older boys, they had been getting less and less lacerations by the day as they were getting better at their job. Their job was hard and incredibly demanding but most of them endured, holding onto the dream of escaping.

Lyra and the four girls with her had it the easiest, they were allowed extra food and the staff watching them were kind. One could say they were happy if it had not been for the fact that they were slaves.

Various children spent their days farming. Most of them had quickly gotten a grasp on exactly what to do which made it fairly simple work. They didn't enjoy it, but they were as content as they could be.

Some of the older girls had been put up to sewing, not too hard of a job if you had the skill and luckily for them, they were quite good at it.

A few of them were appointed to cleaning the mansion, making sure every inch of the place was constantly spotless.

Azaria, possibly having the worst job of all, spent every day at Charlos' side. She endured the abuse, slowly breaking, but still holding onto hope nonetheless. Talking to Noah almost daily helped in lifting her spirits, but it was always short-lived.

Every night they would all be brought back to the small house they were condemned to sleeping in. They were bathed there daily and ate as much as they could within a five-minute time frame twice a day. Some of them may have had worse jobs than others, but they were all miserable, in constant anguish one way or another.

* * *

_March 5th, 11:45 p.m_

Defeat. That was the most prominent feeling in the sea of emotions that cluttered her eyes. She collapsed on the floor between Lyra and the boy who she came to know as James. Without a moment's hesitation, tears began to roll down her cheeks. In the weeks of her hopes crumbling, she'd stayed strong because she knew—thought—at the time that she'd be able to make it out alive.

Charlos' words and actions had gotten to her. Her mom's words constantly echoed—screamed in the confines of her mind, begging her to stay strong and safe. Those words didn't help. Safety was not a possibility, it was a far off dream that could never be reached. What she had before was false hope, she realized that now.

James and Lyra both hugged her tightly as she sobbed. Lyra was the first one to speak, "Zari… everything is gonna be alright, I promise."

As much as she trusted the younger girl, she couldn't believe those words. If Lyra herself couldn't believe them, how could she?

James spoke clearly and confidently, "Even if you don't have hope, I have more than enough for the both of us, Azaria. I have enough hope for everyone in this room."

Every word the boy spoke was the truth, his truth, there was no denying the way he felt, his words seemed to put the purple-eyed girl at ease. She smiled; it was small and filled with sadness but in that sadness, there was a glint of happiness. James' words, his confidence—his resolve—they moved her. His words caused the little spark of hope that was buried deep down to flare inside of her once more, it may have been weak, but it would continue to get stronger day by day.

"Thank you, James," Azaria thanked him gratefully. Her newly regained hope was scattered in her voice.

* * *

_March 6th, 6:30 a.m_

"She cried last night," said a boy with curly black hair and teal eyes. He didn't sound concerned, it was odd.

Those words almost made Noah stop in his tracks. He instantly knew who he was talking about; the look in Azaria's eyes the night prior practically confirmed it. He'd been doing his best to get her to talk, to be cheerful for her, but it just hadn't been enough. This morning though, she had spoken to him a bit and there was a gleam of hope in her eye. There was no reason for him to ask, but he did anyway, "Who did?"

"Azaria."

"I take it you cheered her up then?"

"Yeah, I did," he replied warmly.

Noah smiled at the boy, "What's your name?"

The curly-haired boy's eyes widened slightly, he wasn't expecting someone to ask him that. "Aušra James," he answered.

"Well then, James, thank you for looking out for her when I can't."

The boy was still surprised. He knew the man cared about Azaria, but he didn't expect him to say that. "Thank you, s-sir," he stuttered.

Noah chuckled, "You can just call me Noah."

The rest of the boys in the group had only been watching the exchange silently, unsure of what to make of it. None of them expected any sort of kindness in this place after all.

* * *

_March 21st, 12:30 p.m_

Sitting in a chair at a large table was a woman with freckles, tired blue eyes, and shoulder-length black hair. She wasn't the only one at the table, not by far. Amongst her were several other adults, one of which was a grey-haired man with a fairly large stack of papers.

"Three-hundred and thirty-eight. That's how many citizens we had before the _Celestial Dragons_ came." There was a hint of malice in his tone as he spoke of the self-proclaimed gods. It was more than clear that the man didn't care for them in the slightest. The uncaring feeling had quickly turned into hate upon the nobles' last visit.

The man continued on, "Three-hundred and six. That's what we were brought down to after they came. They took _thirty-one_ of our own children, shot Skyriaus Eileen," he gestured towards the woman with black hair and blue eyes, "and murdered one parent, Siltis Drasus." The man bore a grim expression and prepared himself for his next words. "Today, Siltas Kancia… Mother of Lyra… and wife of the deceased Drasus… She… she committed suicide today." He couldn't hold back the pain in his voice anymore, "This marks the fifth suicide since the nobles left."

"We've also had multiple parents head to a marine base nearby to beg for their children despite already knowing their attempts are futile. The one who has actually come back said that the marines know nothing about what happened to our children, so if we continue having people head there, it will most certainly cause problems that we don't need," Eileen added.

Another woman, this one with blonde hair and brown eyes, slammed her hand on the table and shot up from her seat, glaring at the woman who had just spoken; everyone's eyes were on her now. "Why are you being so heartless, Eileen!? They took your daughter!" she screamed.

Guilt flashed across Eileen's face a mere moment. She stared into the blonde's eyes and spoke sternly, "I'm not being heartless. I'm being realistic, you know how the World Government is! If we bother them too much they'll make sure we never bother them again," she paused and shot up from her seat as well. "As for my daughter; there wasn't a _damn_ thing I could do about it! Today is the first time we're apart on her birthday and it hurts so _incredibly_ much knowing that I'll never see her again!" sorrow engulfed her voice and a tear fell down her cheek as she yelled out the last sentence.

The blonde was taken aback by the other woman's words. She was left speechless and slowly sunk back into her chair without a word.

"What are you even doing here, Neby?" asked a man with dark blue hair.

The woman looked him in the eyes as she answered, "I belong here, just like the rest of you."

"Then why are you against Eileen? All of us in this room!"

"I'm not against any of you! All I want is the children back!"

Eileen glanced at the two bickering adults and clenched her fist. She didn't want to hear them argue; there had already been more than enough arguing between her and Neby. "Enough, this isn't the time."

"Like you're one to—"

Miškas was cut off by a grey-haired man coughing into his fist. "Now that that's over… This," he placed a folder in front of himself, "contains a letter and list of complaints from the marines. As Eileen said, our citizens going to them will—is—causing us problems. To save the trouble of actually reading the letter, let me sum it up for you all: They said they'll take action if we don't stop going to them. They're feigning ignorance," he said bitterly.

Miškas glared at the folder. "Those bastards…" he muttered to himself, although it was loud enough for most to hear.

"Mhmm. I feel ya," woman with purple hair tied into a ponytail drawled.

"Miškas, Claire, stop getting off track," said the man with grey hair.

The blue-haired man sighed, "Sincerest apologies, Edwin."

"Sorry, mayor," the woman droned.

The mayor sighed, choosing to ignore the two.

"I suggest we monitor all docks to make sure no one leaves the island until this all calms down," said Eileen.

Claire hummed, "That'll be easy considering we only have a few."

"I don't think we should restrict everyone's freedom like that!" yelled Neby.

"If you're going to keep being like this, get out," Eileen said sternly, shutting up Neby.

"All in favour of this?"

Everyone, excluding the blonde-haired woman, raised their hands.

"Alright. Now does anyone have any suggestions on how we should deal with the suicides?" Edwin asked.

Miškas placed a folder of his own on the table. "This file contains the names of all the parents who had children taken; there's also a list of all the therapists on the island. I think all of the parents should have mandatory therapy."

"I quite like the idea. Is everyone alright with this as well?"

Again, everyone raised their hands.

"Alright, now, onto a few minor matters."

* * *

_4:00 p.m_

After the meeting, Miškas walked Eileen home and now they were sitting on her couch.

"How's your shoulder feeling?" he asked.

She grabbed onto her arm, "It's still hard to move. I'm not sure if it makes sense, but I can feel everything; every vibration, emotion… it's odd."

"I don't usually treat wounds like that, but you were pretty lucky. In my opinion at least." He sighed before continuing, "And how are you doing?"

She hummed in thought for a moment. He was her doctor and her friend, she felt obligated to be honest with him. "I'm still having nightmares every night, it's so hard not having her with me. All I _want_ ," her voice cracked, "is my little girl back."

She began to cry and Miškas embraced her, holding her close. "One day, those bastards will pay for what they're doing."

His words weren't very reassuring for her, everything still hurt and she felt completely lost. "I hope—" her voice caught in her throat for a moment, "I hope we'll be alive to see it."

The blue-haired man rubbed her back reassuringly, "I'm sure we will be, don't worry." His tone made it clear he didn't exactly believe his words; he wanted to but Ziema's citizens had been getting on the government's nerves recently.

Eileen clutched his shirt in her hands, her face was pressed against his chest. "How?" she asked in a whisper.

"What do you mean?" he sounded confused.

She took in a shaky breath through her mouth as it became harder to breathe through her nose. "H-how? How can you act fine when your son was taken?" her voice quivered as she spoke.

The man didn't have an answer to that; Miškas wasn't sure how he acted even the slightest bit alright. Being away from his son was eating away at him; his son being a slave to the world nobles was almost driving him _completely insane._ He bit his tongue, not wanting to worry his friend with his exact feelings.

The two sat in silence for a minute until the doctor broke it with his reply, "I think you may be the only one keeping me sane right now." He paused for a moment before whispering, "I'm glad you're my friend, Sky."

The woman laughed softly, "I really don't know how I'm keeping you sane." She sat up and wiped her tears off her cheeks. "And you know I hate that nickname."

"But it's the colour of your eyes and the first part of your family name!"

"They're not even pronounced the same," she deadpanned.

"Whatever," he laughed and stood up. "I need to contact all of the therapists and parents. Can't believe that old man threw all of the work to me."

Eileen got up herself and pushed the man towards the door, "Stop complaining and do it already," she giggled.

Miškas groaned, "Fine. See ya later, Sky." And with that he walked out of the small house, leaving the still-grieving mother alone.

* * *

_9:00 p.m_

The first thing Miškas seen when he opened the door was Eileen's puffy red eyes. Fresh tears stained her cheeks and new ones were threatening to fall.

"What are you doing here?" her voice shook as she spoke.

Miškas held up a small box in his hand, "It's still her birthday so… I thought we could celebrate."

Eileen smiled sadly and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Come on in, I'll grab some silverware," she said as she opened the door.

The man walked in, sat the box on the coffee table and opened it. Inside was a small cake decorated with crisscrossing purple and blue icing.

While Eileen was in her small kitchen, she couldn't stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks. These tears weren't those of sadness, these tears came from the overwhelming joy and love that she was feeling. This was the first time in almost four months that she smiled a real smile, all of the others were fake and insincere. All of them were an act to not worry others, but now, this one was real. She wiped her tears away with her sleeve and walked back into the living room with a big smile on her face.

Miškas's eyes brightened when he saw the woman's face, he could tell her smile was genuine from the look in her eyes. "Ready for some cake?"

Eileen nodded in response and walked over, handing him a fork.

"Do you not wanna use a plate?" he laughed.

The woman frowned, "Zari and I never used one, we'd just dig right in!"

The man laughed heartily and shoved his fork into the cake, Eileen did the same just after him. The moment the bite entered her mouth, her eyes widened in surprise and she quickly swallowed. "C-cinnamon cake? This is her favourite!" she exclaimed, "How did you know?"

"I did a bit of asking around at the bakery. It wasn't too hard to find out," he chimed.

She tackled him in a hug, making him drop his fork. "Thank you, Miškas!"

"You're welcome but… my cake…" he sounded disappointed.

"There's more cake, dummy! Don't worry!"

He pushed her off of him, swiped her fork from her and went back to eating cake.

Eileen yanked the fork out of his mouth before yelling, "What did you do that for!"

"I'm not using a fork that touched the floor!"

"Then get a new one and don't steal mine, dumbass!"

He stood up, "Fine, I will!"

Eileen threw her fork at him, "Just use this one!"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "But—you just—what?"

"I'm not using a fork that you used."

The man walked off into the kitchen almost speechless, "I really, _really_ don't understand women…"

When he walked back in, Eileen stared at him, smiled brightly, and said, "You really are dumb, aren't you?"

"You have absolutely no right to talk, Sky," he retorted.

"Whatever."

He chuckled as he sat on the couch, handed her a fork and went straight back to eating cake.

Eileen stared at the food in front of her, thoughts of her daughter rushing through her mind. Thinking of Azaria made her heart hurt. "She'd be really amused if she was here, you know."

"Amused? I think she'd be questioning how weird her mom is instead."

"Or maybe she'd be questioning why I'm friends with a dumbass. Seriously who steals a fork?" she sighed, "I don't understand how you became a doctor."

He ruffled her hair with his free hand as he swallowed another bite of cake. He decided to ignore her comment, "What's she like anyway?"

It took Eileen a few moments to speak. She smiled fondly and there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, "She was the sweetest, most caring little girl you'd ever meet. She was really good at picking up emotions too, like if you were sad or anything, she'd… she'd just know how you feel."

"Seems like she's special, huh? So what did she like to do?" He sounded genuinely interested, which made her smile more.

"She really liked learning, especially our history. I only taught her the good things, though," she looked towards the floor and frowned, "I don't know our tongue very well; I could barely grasp the basics so I'm limited to knowing only a few words and phrases. I couldn't exactly teach her very well…"

Miškas hugged her, "Don't be down about it. Our people have barely spoken it for hundreds of years."

She yawned. "I should be getting to bed, it's late. You should get home too, you have a long day tomorrow. Both of us do."

"I'm not gonna let you be alone tonight, Sky. I'm staying and you can't stop me."

Too tired to argue, she sighed, "Alright but you're sleeping on the couch."

He frowned, "I said I'm not leaving you alone. I'll be on the floor at least."

"Whatever, just grab some blankets from the closet," she yawned again, "I'm going to bed."

She stumbled out of the living room, into her bedroom and plopped on her bed. She was a bit surprised by how exhausted she was, she didn't even notice the door opening and Miškas laying down on the floor. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she mumbled a few words, "Happy birthday, baby girl…"

Her words were quiet, barely audible, yet in the silence of the house, Miškas was able to hear her. There was a clear pain in her voice and it saddened him. He felt the same pain she did. That night, he fell asleep crying, thinking of his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelin blegh today. Gonna try to get some writing done; think I'm almost finished with chapter 11 c:


	9. Sins of the Gods

_May 31st, 10:20 p.m_

Ten boys—nine with expressions filled with terror. Two of the nine had dead, hopeless eyes; six of them were crying. James had a pained look in his eyes; yet, despite everything, one could still spot a glimmer of the faith and determination he desperately clung on to.

The final boy, however, was completely still and laying on his stomach, head turned towards Noah and the teenagers in front of him. His back was covered in deep lacerations and dried blood and Noah could barely even see the brand burned into his back. Dried tears painted the boy's lifeless face.

Noah could barely hold back the vomit that was threatening to force itself from the depths of his stomach.

They'd only been there for about four months. Noah didn't expect—no, he completely expected someone to die this soon, sooner even. He just didn't _want_ anyone to die this soon; he didn't want anyone to die at all.

Without a word, Noah hesitantly picked up the boy's body—it was still warm—slung it over his shoulder and weakly gestured the rest of the boys to follow him. The whole walk back was weighed down by a sickening silence, save for the occasional sniffles from the crying teens.

* * *

_10:55 p.m_

"What's bothering you, Mister?" asked the little girl.

Noah and Azaria turned a corner, "N-nothing… Don't worry about it."

She frowned, "I know you're lying, Mister."

"I'm not."

"You're lying again!"

He sighed, "Please don't shout in here, and I really don't want to talk about it."

The girl pouted. She didn't enjoy feeling how upset he was and it was just making her feel worse. Her body ached all over from her daily beatings—she was doing the best she could not to cry. Every movement made her bruises flare with pain. Being around Charlos was taking its toll on her, but with the help of Noah, James and a few of the children she'd been able to keep her hope for the future. It was like a soft, warm light inside of her—it was the reason she had the luxury of feeling safe when she was around those who actually cared about her in this place.

* * *

**҉**

Noah was shaking—he clenched his hand into a fist hard enough that his nails were beginning to dig into his skin. It was hard for him to control himself after what had just happened—Mary Geoise was almost too much for him. The only things keeping him sane were his chats with his leader every few weeks and surprisingly the little girl that was currently walking beside him.

He took a quick, yet deep breath in.

_Fifty,_

_forty-nine,_

_forty-eight._

And let a just-too-quick deep breath out.

_Forty-seven_

_forty-six,_

_forty-five._

And another deep breath in, slower this time.

_Forty-four._

_Forty-three._

_Forty-two._

And an almost perfect deep breath out.

_Forty-one._

_Forty._

_Thirty-nine._

Another deep breath in at another almost perfect pace. He continued his process of breathing and counting.

_Twenty-six._

_Twenty-five._

_Twenty-four._

He let out out a deep breath and unclenched his fist. Bits of skin and blood were left under his fingernails and small crescent moons decorated his palms.

By the time they walked outside, his anger was subsiding. On the outside, he looked completely calm; his breathing was steady and he was no longer shaking. On the inside, he was a mess; images of the boy's body flashed through his mind and he could barely think straight.

* * *

҉

The grass was soft and welcoming, it felt nice, but wrong in a way—like enjoying something in this place was taboo. Azaria wondered why she could enjoy anything at all given the circumstances.

The weather was different from her home; Ziema was always cold and rainy, or freezing and snowy. She never got the chance to walk outside barefoot, let alone go out without a coat on. She looked down, keeping an eye on the grass instead of looking in front of her. Thinking about home just made her miss her mother—it hurt _so_ much knowing it would be a long time before she could see her again; _if_ she could see her again. Was her mother okay? What if she couldn't get out of this place? Would she always be a slave?

She squeezed Noah's hand tightly—she was thinking too much and everything hurt, there was _so_ much pain all over her. Her legs shook and quivered noticeably when she stood still and walking was hard for her. Painful, even. Her stomach hurt and growled at her; she felt sick—she barely ate, she was only able to once a day, twice if the other uniformed men were feeling nice. She was beginning to hate fruit, as well. It was far too bland and she missed meat, especially venison! She ate a lot of it back home—thinking about food was making her feel a bit better, even if it _was_ related to her home.

Walking into the baths, Azaria was a bit confused to only see Lyra and four other girls there. Every night, the boys would usually still be there by the time she got back. She walked over to her friend and got in the bath, "Where's James and the other boys?"

Lyra looked confused, worried and scared. "They went to bed early… and one of them was missing too…" she replied.

She knew something was wrong before the girl stopped speaking. Now that she thought about it, everything felt _off._ Ever since Noah had gotten her, he'd been different towards her; the mix of emotions she had felt from him wasn't helping anything either. She focused on everything around her, consciously paying attention to everyone in her general vicinity. Noah was still nearby, parts of him trying to calm themselves while the rest was a blubbering mess of anxiety filled horror. Lyra and the girls were filled with worry, but another part of them was content.

Below her, she felt a large pool of anguish; anxiety that she'd never felt before. Even with all of the negative emotions, there was a small speck of faith inside of them. She knew who had that blind faith; James was truly the strongest one of them all—he clung on to his feelings with desperation, attempting to be a shining beacon of hope for all of the children around him. His attempts weren't going to waste either; every time a child lost their way, falling into a pit of despair and wanting to give up everything, he would be there to pull them out. He was their shoulder to cry on, a big brother to them all that did his best to bear the burden of their pain.

She tried to shake it away but couldn't now that she'd noticed; she didn't want to feel their pain—it was too great. She spent the rest of her time in the bath talking to Lyra about little things while washing up.

While walking through the room with the metal table, she eyed the leather straps and shuddered; she didn't know why—she couldn't remember a thing despite being told what happened, so why was she having these terrifying feelings at the sight of it? She didn't like them; they were almost as bad as how she felt when around Charlos. Goosebumps crawled along her skin as she felt a chill run through her entire being.

The door to the bedroom opened with a loud squeak. Azaria clamped her hands over her ears and winced; it was so loud and painful. All of the other children and older kids were already inside, walking in was off, _different._ Everyone was even more down than usual and it felt like there was a thick blanket of negative emotions hanging heavy in the air. She frowned, it was so hard not to cry with how awful everyone was feeling.

Lyra grabbed onto her hand and pulled her over to James as the door shut behind them. The dim light made it hard to see; they moved slowly and tried their best not to step on anyone—not that it did them much good. It was quiet; the only sounds in the room were soft sniffles coming from some of the others—it was hard to tell who, but Azaria had a good guess.

"What's wrong, James?" Lyra asked, breaking the silence.

Azaria curled up beside James, pulling his blanket over her as well. Her back was pressed firmly against the wall, her knees to her chest and her head leaning on James' chest. Lyra did the same but leaned against Azaria instead.

"He's _gone…_ " James whispered, his voice barely audible.

Her throat constricted, she hugged James tightly, he sounded _so_ upset when he spoke. The movement caused the blanket to shift off of her, it made the cool, damp air nip at her skin. "Who is?" Her voice was quiet, she did her best to not let it waver—she didn't want to make James worry more or feel even worse.

He hugged her back with one arm and grabbed Lyra's hand with the other. James looked at them in their eyes the best he could, switching from one to the other. "L-Leon, he—he's not...not here anymore…"

She knew who that was—he was a nice boy she'd just recently been introduced too. He had wavy blond hair, green eyes and freckles; he was quiet and shy like her. She knew what James meant by Leon not being here anymore; it's what her mom told her about some of the cute little foxes back home one time. Leon was gone and he _wasn't_ coming back. _Death_ —that was something she'd dealt with before, but never the death of another person. A living, breathing human…

She hugged James tighter and cried, slowly feeling her hope slip away again. One of her own people was gone now, someone she barely knew but still, it hurt. She'd been convincing herself—believing—that none of them would die, but here it was, happening. She felt Lyra climb over her to hug James as well; the pressure on her bruises caused pain to shoot through her and she flinched. Lyra's legs laid across Azaria's, the rest of her was against the boy as she hugged him tightly as well. The room was filled with the sounds of crying children as more began to cry for their deceased brother.

* * *

҉

 _Soft, golden light peeked in from the curtains; the little girl sat beside her mother, content in listening to the birds chirp happily. She moved and laid across her mother's lap, a big smile growing on her face. Today was a_ very _good day—it was bright, sunny, and not as cold as usual either._

_Her mother looked down at her and smiled back, her kind, blue eyes further lighting up the little girl's world. "Aš tave myliu, sweetie."_

_Azaria's smile brightened; she didn't hear those words often, but when she did she always felt so warm and fuzzy inside—those words meant so much. As she was about to speak them back, her face contorted in fear._

_Blood trickled down her mother's arm and tears ran down her cheeks as she winced in pain._

* * *

_June 1st_

Azaria jolted awake, still in Jame's arms. Lyra had shifted off of her legs and was laying in-between her and the boy now. Her head hurt and she was confused; why did she wake up? Was it her dream? Probably. She thought for a moment, searching her mind for the memories of her dream. It wasn't too long before she remembered what happened to Leon.

She cried.

Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep again.

* * *

҉

Yelling—that was the first thing she heard when she woke up again. Her head hurt so much; it was so bright now with the door open. She wasn't awake enough to tell what was going on exactly. She felt tugging on her arm, the light progressively getting brighter and before she knew it, she was outside. It was so bright—why was the sun out? It hurt her eyes more. She squeezed them shut and kept walking, stumbling a bit. She opened her eyes every few seconds, blinking rapidly and trying to get used to the light. It was warm, instead of the usual cold of the mornings; the air felt nice against her cool skin. Her stomach was hurting and her head felt fuzzy, walking was hard and she felt as if she'd fall at any moment.

The children were led into a large building; inside was a big room with three simple, wooden tables pushed together and wooden chairs all around. In front of each chair, there was a plate with food on it, she couldn't tell what it was from her distance, however. She inhaled deeply, savouring the delicious scent as her stomach snarled for nourishment. A bit further past the wooden tables, there was another, nicer table, seemingly made of quartz. She paled as her eyes landed on who was sitting at it—Charlos. Shaking ever so slightly, she brought her arms up and hugged herself tightly.

"Slaves, take your seats around the wooden table!" someone shouted.

Her legs felt like jelly; she wanted to run away, to hide, but she couldn't. Someone still had a firm grip on her arm, leading her towards the table. Time seemed to hasten; she blinked and she was at the table, already sitting down. She brought on of her hands up, the other still resting on her side as she hugged herself, and rubbed both of her eyes. Her eyes darted around the table, searching for Charlos and praying he wouldn't come over. Her hand squeezed tightly on her side, purposefully aggravating one of her many bruises—a distraction. That was it—it was exactly what she needed to ignore her quickly growing fear.

She took a better look around her, all of the children were now seated. Everyone's plate had the same thing on it—two small chunks of meat that were a bit dark in colour. She looked to her left and then her right; she was in-between James and Lyra—that fact comforted her and she loosened her grip on her side. From her current position, she couldn't see the table where Charlos was sitting—that fact both comforted and terrified her, making her tighten her grip on her side again.

She focused her gaze on the food in front of her; steam was rising from it and it smelled like a delicious combination of beef and pork—from the look of the meat, it may have been beef. Her mouth would've watered at the sight if it hadn't been for the fact her mouth was relatively dry—she hadn't had anything to drink since yesterday morning! She frowned and decided to think about how tasty the meat in front of her might be.

"—ari."

Someone shook her.

"Zari," James whispered. Azaria looked over to him and he continued, "They said we can eat now."

He had a genuine smile on his face, his eyes were watery, however. His expression made Azaria feel warm, yet sad at the same time. This would be their first time eating hot food since they were home—if only Leon could be a part of the meal with them. She frowned again and almost teared up but she decided not to mull over it; she should be happy! She was about to eat something hot, _and_ it was meat!

She gingerly grabbed a chunk of (maybe) beef—it was just hot enough to be uncomfortable to hold, but she didn't care. As she lifted it towards her mouth a few drops of juice dripped onto her plate—she made a mental note to lick it up after. Her anticipation and desperation grew and grew to the point that every millisecond was almost unbearable. Finally, she sunk her teeth into meat and chewed slowly, savouring its taste for as long as possible. It tasted a bit similar to pork, but she wasn't sure—maybe it was some kind of mystery meat? She quickly forgot about that thought. The meat was tender, yet a bit stringy—but that didn't bother her—this was possibly the best meat she'd ever tasted! Once it was thoroughly chewed, she swallowed and took a second bite, which happened to be the rest of the first chunk.

The second bite was just as perfect as the last, maybe even more so; it was just as tender and juicy, yet it seemed to melt in her mouth. Words alone couldn't even begin to describe how she felt as she ate; she felt as if she was in her own little world, in heaven perhaps. She swallowed her second bite and took hold of her last chunk of meat and plopped it in her mouth whole—she wasn't even upset it was almost gone! She cherished every little second it took for her to finish it off. Every bite seemed better than the last, each munch even more delicious than she imagined meat could ever be. She grabbed the plate in front of her and licked up every drop of juice on the plate; it was a little salty but it was perfect to her.

Today may have been the best day she's ever had in this place.

"So, how does your little friend taste?" Charlos asked in his slimy voice.

It made Azaria feel icky; and what did he mean by what he said?

"What was his name again?" he paused. "Oh, that's right, it was Leon!"

She threw up.

* * *

҉

Charlos stared intently at his slave, happy with how much she was trembling and dry heaving. He was unhappy with how she'd wasted all of the food he'd so graciously granted her the privilege of having, but he could look past that for now. Her expression was marvellous; her already light complexion paled further, tears gushed from her eyes and her nails dug into her arms as she hugged herself. He smirked, overly satisfied with the results.

He quickly looked around at all of the other slaves, the ones he didn't care about. Their reactions were all varied, but similar; some were jamming their fingers down their throats in an effort to empty the contents of their stomachs, some were screaming and crying, some were just shaking, some spit out tiny bits of bloody pink flesh—possibly from biting their cheek, and one simply had tears streaming from wide eyes and a hand covering their mouth.

He took great delight in watching the worthless slaves suffer and took even greater delight in watching his own slave suffer.

Today was truly an amazing birthday for Charlos.

* * *

҉

Lyra bawled; she was laying on the floor holding her legs to her chest, shaking and crying. Her breathing was uneven, wavering every time she breathed in or out. Her nails dug into her leg and she pulled them along, leaving claw marks in her own skin.

What—just what had she done? How could she… how could just do something like that and… and enjoy it?

She bit her tongue and sobbed more.

* * *

҉

James' mouth tasted like blood—it was disgusting but what he felt he deserved for the sin he'd committed. It was welcome even, anything to get rid of the taste of flesh. He was on his knees, staring at the blood that dribbled out of his mouth and dripped to the floor. He cried; how could he have not known? How could have let himself feel happy for even a second that day? Just _how_ could he have let that happen to Leon?

It was his fault, he was sure of it. And there was nothing he could do to make it right.

He let go of his childish faith.

* * *

҉

Noah stood watching the scene in horror, ridden with guilt. He should've done something―anything to not let this happen, to prevent the children's suffering. He berated himself for not being able to save the other child, Leon.

He wanted to look away, but he wouldn't allow himself that luxury, not now—not after all the things he'd done wrong.

He cried; the marines beside him did as well. Even if something was less than human, they didn't deserve to go through that.

* * *

҉

She kept trying to throw up, to get every bite of meat—every bite of _Leon_ out of her. He wasn't just meat, he was a person! How could she!? How could it—he— _he_ taste so good? Her friend's flesh was so wrongly delicious. How could she have savoured every bite, enjoyed it so much? She devoured it, took the time to cherish the taste and experience and… How could she have done that?

She squeezed her arms and put pressure on her sides, aggravating her bruises yet again. It wasn't a distraction this time, no, it was a punishment. Her body ached in well-deserved pain and it was hard to breathe— her nose was too stuffy to breathe through and her throat kept wanting to close itself to deprive her of air.

Her mouth still watered at the thought of how the meat—human flesh—her _friend_ —tasted. Drool trickled from the corner of her mouth.

What was _wrong_ with her?

Could it have possibly been a good thing that she'd eaten him? Surely he was nutritious, right? Maybe Leon would be happy that his flesh was a gift to them.

That's what she'd tell herself for now. Anything to make it better for the time being.

She stopped shaking and dropped to the floor, curling up and crying for the loss of her friend instead of the horrific act she'd just committed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me is iffy about this chapter, even over a year later. I'm still really proud of it, though. Also! The next chapter, 10, will be out tomorrow, and after that, it may be a few days as chapter 11 isn't done yet, but it's super close!


	10. Autexousious

_1514, January 2nd, 12:00 p.m_

Azaria's arms hung limply at her sides as the wind blew her hair into her face, tangling it further. She stood beside Charlos, looking over the ship. Men in blue and white uniforms, marines, were manning the vessel; they were running around, occasionally messing with ropes. She tried to focus on it. Key word being 'tried'.Years. For _years_ she'd tried to keep her mind on other things, tried to distract herself. It didn't work. It had _never_ worked.

Charlos yanked on her hair and slapped a hand on her cheek and gripped her face, forcing her to look his way. She looked past him, just for a second. _Only_ a second.

 _Any longer, and…_ She didn't even want to think about it

She spotted a man; he'd been standing beside them for a long time, ever since they'd step foot on the ship, in fact. The man looked not quite angry, not quite upset. Stern, maybe. His arms were crossed, and Azaria could hear the slight tapping of his foot on the wooden planks of the ship. He was another marine, or at least that's what his hat had said; he was an incredibly tall man, more than twice her height in fact, with black hair who wore a white suit. She didn't notice anything beyond that.

"Are you enjoying your time outside?" Charlos asked. His voice was a tad high, yet still maintaining his signature sliminess. He had a smile on his face, and his head was covered in a glass-like bubble again; Azaria hadn't seen that in years.

It made her think of her mom, wondered how she was doing—was she happy? Did she find someone to love, or have another kid to replace her? If she could bring herself to cry, she'd consider it.

She could only respond to him with a noncommittal noise and a weak nod. Words were too hard. She could count on one hand how many times she'd spoken more than a word in the past month, she even had fingers to spare. She knew she was lucky that Charlos didn't punish her for being so quiet.

The boy released her face, loosened up his grip on her hair, and went on to caressing her. No one batted an eye or looked in their direction for long. She idly noted that the wind began to pick up, she shivered. It was windy in the first place, being on the sea and all, but this was...different. She wasn't sure how, but she assumed it didn't matter anyway.

The stern man was barking out orders. She almost wondered why, but it was probably something regarding the ship again. She focused on the sky; it was such a pretty blue. It was a blue that someone could stare at and get lost in for hours and she could because the sky had only been blue for barely an hour. There was an abundance of clouds as well, wispy clouds, fluffy clouds that began to darken.

Charlos pulled at a tangle, causing her to wince. The loose hairs didn't get a chance to fall to the ground, instead, they got swept away by the wind. There was a sense of unease that was not unlike the one she was used to, but it was different. Off. Everything was constantly off but this was different. A chill crawled along every inch of her skin, raising tiny bumps; this sensation wasn't coming from touch, nor was it coming from the wind or chill in the air. This feeling was one that was alien to her. Not the chill, no, she was used to those, but the way the chill came along, the feeling that came before it.

Her head started to hurt—every inch of it. The feeling wasn't as gradual as it was supposed to be. One second. One second was all it took for her head to pound. She saw Charlos collapse in her peripheral vision. Her eyes began to water and sting as she fell to her knees. Wavering. Her vision was becoming blurry. Patches of nothingness and brightness invaded her vision, fighting for control over which would take her. She tried to fight it, she really did. But it wouldn't work, it couldn't.

҉

Noah watched as everyone on the ship fell into unconsciousness. Almost everyone that is. The only ones who still stood were himself and Akainu, an admiral. It was a tough situation he'd gotten himself in, but it was the only chance he'd have; he was nearly shaking. He'd been waiting literal _years_ for this day.

He sprung into action, practically teleporting his way beside Akainu. The admiral was tense, eyes darting back and forth.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Akainu grumbled.

"Got it, sir," Noah said. He'd been keeping his eyes peeled all day, too.

He let his senses take over and spread across the area, searching for any strong auras nearby, but just as he'd expected, there were none. Typical. Of course, _he_ would attack everyone on the ship like that and still choose to hide his presence. But it made sense, especially with an admiral being here and all.

Rain began pouring down from the sky and the winds picked up more, choosing to single out the admiral; Noah took his chance as Akainu was nearly blown over the railing. He scooped Azaria up into his arms and ran towards the other side of the ship. Akainu got his bearings and gave chase, he formed a mass of lava and lobbed it at Noah. The mass split apart midair, landing on the ship, melting through the wood and spreading fire across the vessel. A glob wooshed past Noah's head with a smouldering heat that nearly burnt his skin; he ran faster, acutely aware of every hunk of lava.

Akainu yelled and Noah blocked it out. The winds were loud, he was excited, scared, and tired; he was so, so tired. This mission of his was getting to be too much, and now it would finally end and he could go _home._

Akainu launched more globs of magma, some of them landed on the unconscious marines and he didn't bat an eye. Noah almost flinched at the sight of the burning, melting bodies in front of him. As smart as he was, he didn't think of that at the moment it all unfolded; he'd heard rumours of the sorts of things the admiral would do, but he didn't think they were actually true, yet here he was, living those stories and rumours he'd heard.

The scent of charred flesh bordered on familiar; it was unpleasant and disgusting and- no. He couldn't think of that now. He had a mission.

On the railing just ahead of him stood, or floated rather, a large figure in a black cloak. Noah ran faster in an effort to close the distance between him and the figure, the man. Noah could sense Akainu catching up to him, he felt the heat of the lava globs pass him; he felt confident as he dodged.

Confidence doesn't save a person.

Noah lost his footing for a second, slowing him down, making him stumble. Akainu took advantage of the mistake and managed to land a hit. Magma burned through Noah's pant leg, his shirt, his skin, and into his flesh, lava oozed down his leg and back; he screamed.

The man in the man in the black cloak dashed through the air towards Noah, grabbed him and the girl in his arms, and ran away through the air.

"S-sir…" Noah said weakly.

"I should've stepped in sooner," the man said, his voice just above a whisper.

Noah was feeling weak, dizzy, his vision was fading in and out, but he looked up at his boss; the man's eyebrows were drawn together and he was frowning.

"It-it's okay… s-sir." Noah's voice was weak, he struggled to get words out. "D-drop me." A cough forced him to pause; blood dribbled out of his mouth, down his chin, and onto his shirt. "I'm gonna… die-die anyway."

The cloaked man's shoulders drooped a bit. "I'm sorry I didn't save you, Noah."

Noah smiled shakily. "Thank you… for being an amazing leader. Take Care of that girl, she's special."

"You've been a wonderful ally and friend, and I won't let your death be in vain. Rest peacefully, I'll take care of her."

The dying man looked at his boss, Dragon, in the eyes and tried to speak, the only thing that came out was blood as the light dimmed in his eyes.

_I can finally go home._

҉

Dragon raced through the air as his friend died in one arm and a little girl lay unconscious in the other. He couldn't bring himself to drop the man, and he couldn't stop himself from letting tears dribble from the corners of his eyes.

He always acted strong for everyone around him—he _is_ strong—but he still has feelings and he'd be damned if he bottled them up all the time. He glanced back, making sure the admiral wasn't chasing him. Luckily not. He didn't doubt he could win, but with the girl? That would make things tough. He wondered what was special about her; Noah never mentioned it, only insisted she was special in some way.

 _Noah._ Dragon looked at the sky, _really_ looked. He'd been mindlessly staring for a long time, not even realizing all the time that had passed. It was around three, now. He glanced at the limp corpse of his friend, looking longer than he intended, thought: ' _I should hurry home, so the girl doesn't see him like this.'_

And that's exactly what he did.

҉

A young boy in a goggled tophat sat upon a rock outside, bored out of his mind. Hack was training the other kids, and he wasn't up for watching or doing his own thing. He stared off into the distance at the sky he'd become familiar with over the past year and handful of months. Even with the monotonous day he'd suffered through, he still liked it here.

Laying back, he stared up at the clouds. His mind wandered as he daydreamed, imagining the clouds in all sorts of shapes. There was one that looked like a ship, and another that looked like his hat, and one more hat that kinda looked like a sunhat.

He wondered why those were the kinda shapes he was seeing in the clouds.

Drifting to a different thought, Dragon had been gone for a day or two. The boy wondered where he went because Dragon didn't actually leave that often. He was usually in his office doing paperwork or telling other people what to do.

He turned to lay on his side, looking out towards the ocean, not that it was easy with how far away he was from shore and how many things were blocking his view. It was faint, but every time there was a lapse in noise from the other kids, he was able to hear the sound of waves splashing against the rocks of the shore. The sound was… sort of calming in a way, but he wasn't sure what word fit properly. Inspiring? Something akin to that.

Maybe… Just maybe the sea was _calling to him._

He'd been at Baltigo for a while now, and he always enjoyed listening to the waves crash against the shore, and he was finally able to put words to how it made him feel. The boy smiled. He wasn't sure exactly _why_ he felt such a strong desire to go out to sea―it was as strong as his desire to help the Revolutionary Army succeed in their goals.

He just needed to get even stronger first, somehow.

Off in the distance, he saw something—someone—darting through the sky. He squinted, trying to get a better look, before realizing that's exactly how Dragon left the other day. It looked like he was carrying someone, maybe two people. It was hard to tell. In what felt like the blink of an eye, Dragon was out of view, probably back at the main building that housed his office.

Sabo stood up, intent on going to see what was up with Dragon. He just had to sneak in.

҉

The bed was soft, warm—completely unlike the harsh chill of the winter's ocean breeze. A thick, warm comforter enveloped the small girl. Now that Dragon got a better look at her, he could see the scars that ran along the sides of her arms and legs. They looked surgical, the best he could tell. He'd have to ask Iva to take a look next time he sees them.

Noah's body was already in the morgue. The memory of his death still fresh, threatening to take over Dragon's thoughts completely. It had only happened that morning. The man tightening his fist. He could've stopped what happened, but he thought Noah would get out of the way, he'd _seen_ him get out of the way.

Akainu could've seen it too, changed trajectory.

Dragon felt as if he'd failed, and he didn't feel that way very often. He could barely remember the last time he'd felt that way, and that was saying something.

He walked over to the window, staring out and thinking of his friend. He sent him into the marines seven, eight years ago, trusting he could gather intel. Noah did just that. They'd figured out a few locations where the Celestial Dragons chose to take slaves; they were able to assist the people of some of those islands, recruiting a handful from as many islands as they could.

During one of his last conversations with Noah, he was asked to help rescue a girl, one he'd been told of before. Azaria. Dragon asked about the other kids.

" _There are no others."_

The man's words echoed through Dragon's mind over and over and over again. He practically froze and almost couldn't answer after he heard it.

" _She might not be here much longer."_

Those words echoed too and played a big part in Dragon practically racing out to the middle of the sea. All to help a little girl, and now his friend was dead cold in a morgue.

The girl was still out cold from his haki. He felt as if he overdid it a little, he could've avoided hitting her, but he thought it would be easier on her and Noah if she was knocked out for a bit. That's what he told himself, at least.

He needed to find out where she was from. That helpful piece of information would've been nice to know sooner, but Noah never thought to tell him. His friend seemed very overprotective of this girl, and Dragon decided to watch over her for now, and take her home himself. She looked uncomfortable as she slept, scared in a way, and she was beginning to get restless.

Dragon frowned—the girl had been through a lot, and he was sure he'd barely heard any of it. He wished Noah was still alive or had told him of her experiences. Noah didn't speak of it. _Ever._

 _It must have been bad,_ Dragon thought.

A faint clanging sound came from the vents, it lasted roughly thirty-seconds before stopping. Dragon reached out his senses and was met with amusement, he smiled, walked over to the vent and pulled the grate off. In front of him was a terrified looking Sabo.

"D-Dragon! I-I," the young boy sputtered, failing to get the words out of his mouth.

Dragon chuckled. "Were you curious about what was going on?"

Sabo nodded and Dragon held out his hand to help the boy out of the vent. Once the blond touched the ground, he looked around the room, curiosity filling his eyes. His gaze appeared to land on the girl in the bed.

"Uh, who is she?" Sabo asked, tilting his head to the side.

"A girl I rescued, her name is Azaria."

Sabo hummed for a second. "Where's she from? Like where'd you rescue her from?"

"Not a great place. Now go on, let her rest," Dragon said, gesturing towards the door.

҉

Sabo made his way towards the door, taking a look back and watched as the small girl in the bed began to stir awake. He completely turned in his tracks, walking back over beside the bed. She had long black hair that went under the blankets, making it hard to tell how long it really was. Her face was full of freckles, one of them heart-shaped; her eyes opened in a way that made it _stiff._ It was odd, the way every movement she made, no matter how minute, was stiff, reluctant, fearful.

The girl sat up, her purple eyes were full of fear, just as her movements were. Sabo… Sabo wasn't sure what to think, especially when he saw the scars that lined her arms, the way she backed up against the headboard and pulled her up against her chest. He wanted to help, he really did, but he just didn't know what to do.

He'd seen kids scared before, but it wasn't this bad. The other kids were loud, they weren't afraid to speak or cry, and this girl in front of him appeared to be the complete opposite.

"Are- are you okay?" Sabo asked trepidatiously. He felt a lump growing in his throat as the fear hit, the fear for the girl in front of him. She looked like she was barely younger than him.

The girl nodded. Dragon ushered Sabo out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.

He didn't try going back inside, instead, he walked the quieter halls of the building and made his way inside a small room that was rarely visited by anyone. He walked in, sat down against the wall, and mulled over what just happened.

҉

The tall man crouched down a few feet away from the bed. "You're safe now," he said, his voice quiet, a bit soft.

She turned a bit, so her neck wouldn't ache as she looked at him; light glimmered in from the window behind the tall man. She didn't know how to feel, could barely tell how he felt, if he was lying or not and she couldn't remember the last time that happened, if it ever happened. Azaria was uncomfortable, untrusting. Who was the man in front of her? Where was she? What was going on? She felt anxious and terrified, a little voice in the back of her mind was telling her it was okay and she truly wanted to listen.

But the intrusive thoughts were begging her, _screaming_ at her to just run away.

She stayed silent, stayed still, scared out of her mind. The intrusive thoughts asked what Saint Charlos would think, how angry he would be at her, how much he'd hurt her if he knew she'd ran away.

_Ran away._

Did that mean she'd escaped? She wouldn't have to see him again?

No, no this had to be a test. Or a joke, or something. Was it a dream? She couldn't read any emotions of the tall man, but that scarred, blond boy that left the room, he was full of fear and worry and curiosity of all things, so it couldn't be a dream at all.

As she thought it through, the tall man stayed silent, patient.

"Where a-are we?" she stuttered. Her voice sounded broken, rough from disuse and she was unsure of every word she let out, as if she'd almost forgotten what it was like to speak normally.

Maybe she did forget, just a little bit.

The tall man smiled a little, contemplating for a moment before responding, "With the revolutionary army. You're safe here," he said.

Part of her recognized the name, sort of, she was sure she'd heard it before. Whispering in the halls outside of Saint Charlos' room. The intrusive thoughts were questioning if this was a way to test her loyalty, see if she'd fall for it. Questioning if the tall man was being truthful.

That sweet little voice in the back of her head told her to trust him, that everything would be okay.

She clutched the blanket that was on top of her, just now realizing how warm she was, how comfortable. It almost felt safe, but she wouldn't let her guard down, wouldn't let herself trust just to lose everything again. "Who are you?"

He sat down on the floor in favour of crouching, still a small smile on his face. "My name is Dragon, and I'm the leader of the Revolutionary Army."

The tall man, Dragon, was straightforward, blunt, honest. She didn't need anything like her power to tell her that. The intrusive thoughts were getting quieter, still yelling, but quieter. It was almost peaceful now, and she hadn't felt that in a while. She recognized the name, too. Noah had said something about him before if she remembered correctly.

"Where's Noah?"

The tall man opened his mouth for a moment, as if to respond, but hesitated. He stood, walked over and sat at the foot of the bed, as far away as he could while still being in somewhat close proximity. He gave her a sad smile. "I won't lie to you, and I can't sugarcoat it. Noah isn't here anymore. He died saving you, he's a hero and his last wish was for me to take care of you."

Azaria had spent the passed she-didn't-know-how-long not crying, trying to be complacent, not get hurt. But now? She cried, wailed, threw herself at the man in front of her and sobbed. She knew he was being honest, she knew how much pain he was in as he spoke, how hard he was trying to not break down himself.

The back of her throat ached in pain, her eyes burned from the tears, and she gripped the tall man as tightly as she could. He held her as she cried, and she didn't stop until she passed out.

҉

Sabo didn't realize that he'd fallen asleep, didn't even realize how tired he'd been. He didn't do much that day either, but seeing that girl, how hurt she was, was draining. He didn't know how, but he'd find a way to help her. The room he was in was dark, nearly pitch black. It was just a storage closet, one that no one ever needed anything from, apparently. He stood up, yawning. "I wonder how long I slept," he mumbled.

Light that felt brighter than the sun attacked his eyes as he opened the door, he teared up a little bit, rubbed his eyes, and blinked constantly, trying to get used to the brightness.

When he could see clearly, he noticed that Dragon was standing in front of him. Huh. Dragon didn't have a reason to go down this hall, it was just storage rooms, really. He blinked, Dragon was still there. He shut his eyes for one, two, three, ten seconds, and Dragon was still there. He shut and rubbed his eyes, met with an annoying blur for a few moments, and Dragon was still there.

He tried to run, he really did, but the man just grabbed the back of his coat and lifted him up, letting the kid dangle in the air. "Uh, h-hello sir. What're you doin' back here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing." Dragon plopped him on the floor. "Are you alright? You just came out of a storage closet."

Sabo… wanted to say he was fine, really, he did. But he just wasn't sure. He hadn't been around someone like her in the whole year and some-odd-months he'd been there. Getting his thoughts in order was something he intended to do while mulling things over, but apparently, he passed out before that could happen. "I don't really know," he answered.

If Sabo looked closely, he would have noticed how the dark fabric of Dragon's suit coat was slightly darker in some areas, wet from a little girl's tears.

"She'll be okay, Sabo."

The boy looked down towards the floor, "Is there any way I can help her?"

The man crouched down, eye level with the blond. "You could try being her friend for the time she's here."

Sabo looked back up, "Will she even talk to me? Talk to anyone?"

"She will. Just give it time. Things like this always take time."

The kid just nodded, a bit sad, worried.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" Dragon asked.

He tilted his head, "Dinner? What time is it?"

Dragon thought for a moment, "Around six-thirty."

Sabo's eyes widened, mouth dropped open, his stomach growled, and he took off running for the cafeteria that was all the way in the dorm building.

He heard Dragon laughing as he turned the corner of the hall, and used a window as a shortcut. Luckily, no glass was shattered.

҉

Waking up alone was always uncomfortable, especially with the looming knowledge of what was waiting for her in that large mansion across the yard. Today, she wasn't as uncomfortable. She woke up, met with light that only came from the moon. Azaria swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself out, she felt a bit dizzy and wobbly as she walked, her head was pounding, eyes red, puffy and swollen, but aside from those things, she made her way to the window with no trouble. The windowsill was large enough for her to climb up and sit on.

Outside was white—the ground was white, but it wasn't snow because it wasn't cold enough for that. Something inside of her was warm and fuzzy, happy. This place almost made her think of home during the winter, save for there being zero trees in sight. She saw a few people walking outside and hoped the tall man would come back soon and let her outside. A rumbly sound made its way to her ears, her stomach hurt a lot, she was hungry. How long had it been since she last ate? She wasn't sure. It was probably a while.

The door clicked open and the tall man walked in, it had to be him. She turned towards him, noticing a plate in his hand.

"Hello," she said meekly.

The tall man walked towards her with a small smile, crouched down and held out a plate. "Hungry?"

She nodded. On the plate was a sandwich with lettuce, tomato, cheese and some kind of meat poking out of the sides, as well as a lot of fruit, most of which she hadn't seen before. She smiled brightly for the first time in years and reached out to take the plate, but hesitated, looking at him for permission.

"Take it," he said.

Once she had the plate, she sat on the windowsill and dug in. Everything was delicious; nothing was wilted or near rotting or cold. It was all at the right temperatures, and the fruit was fresh, berries exploded with flavour in her mouth. It was the best thing she'd eaten in four years. The meat was familiar too, it was pork. It wasn't anything icky, anything she shouldn't eat.

The tall man asked her a few questions while she ate.

"Where are you from?"

Her response was a bit muffled as her mouth was full, but still clear enough to make out, "Ziema."

"In the North Blue?"

She nodded in response, happily chewing on some new mystery berry.

"Are you enjoying your food?" he asked, still smiling.

Azaria's smile was beautiful, she was the happiest she'd been in years and small tears of joy pricked at the corners of her eyes. "It's the yummiest thing I've ever had!" she practically shouted.

"I'm glad," the man said, smiling back a bit brighter.

The little girl finished the rest of her food and looked towards the tall man, "Can we go outside?"

The man nodded, "Yes of course. Is there anywhere specific you wanna go?" he asked, and she looked confused for a moment. "Do you want to explore? Or go towards the shore?"

Azaria giggled at the tall man's accidental rhyme. "I wanna go to the shore!"

When she said that, she realized it would take more than all of her fingers and toes to count how many words she'd said in just one day.

The man led her out of the room, and down some halls with plain walls. It was a welcome change from the fancy walls decorated with fancy paintings of ugly monsters. They passed a few people who looked at her curiously, a few who gave her little waves of hello, and a few who just took a moment to acknowledge the tall man, Dragon. She kept forgetting his name, ignoring it, rather. It was too similar to the titles of the people back at Marie Geoise—too similar to the title of the ugly symbol burned into her back.

Just thinking about it brought back the physical pain.

Zari knew that the man in front of her was nice, and she knew that this place was different. Even with the intrusive thoughts whispering in her mind, she was confident that this was reality. That it wasn't all just a lie.

She was happy right here, right now, even with the knowledge of what happened to Noah floating in her mind.

They made it to the front door of the building. The tall man opened it in a way that made it a show, presenting her with the image of outdoors. She took a few steps out and grinned as she felt the ground against her feet. It felt like soil, it was weird and jarring and exciting and she wanted to see more. There were tall rocks around, some looked easy to climb on. She made a mental note to do that sometime.

A smile was still carved into her face, refusing to leave. It was jarring, going from hell to paradise in such a short time, going from a shell to feeling so incredibly happy. She didn't expect it to be possible to feel different in such a short amount of time—the past hour had been euphoric in a way.

She was led out to the shore, the breeze blowing her hair around. The waves lapped against her feet and up to her shins. It was cold, but not a bad kind of cold—she hadn't been able to do this for so long.

It would probably take a long time to click, but she escaped.

Skyriaus Azaria was _free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super proud of this one! Next chapter will be out soon, and I'm really excited for it! I think I really like writing Sabo. I enjoyed his points of view c:
> 
> Also, early update again cause I wanna get it out. Considering changing the title; I have "Purple Butterflies" in mind, thoughts?


	11. Latibule

Sabo couldn’t sleep. He fell asleep for a while earlier, sure, but that shouldn’t have made it so hard to keep his eyes closed without them feeling weird in the way where your eyes felt like they were just floating there, trying to pop out of your sockets or roll back in your head and the only way to stop the feeling is to just keep them open. He was a little uncomfortable in his attempt to sleep, so of course, now he was walking along the shoreline. The moon was bright and its reflection on the water was mesmerizing. 

The waves swished and lapped against the shoreline of mostly white sand. The sound was peaceful, and it was relatively silent, save for the faint sounds of partying way off in the distance. Some of the older members—younger too, actually—of the Revolutionary Army were the type to throw parties at random and mostly for no reason. Sometimes they would after a loss just to get their minds off of it. 

He wondered what the reason was for tonight’s party. 

The children weren’t always told of the losses. That was a rule that Iva and some of the psychologists had decided to make; something about it being easier on a child’s mental state. Sabo used to think the rule was unnecessary because a lot of the other kids had gone through something traumatic and they survived, worked through it. He changed his mind though. One time a girl that was a bit younger than him, Orphea, heard about the death of someone she hadn’t met before, or possibly met in passing, Sabo couldn’t remember. Orphea spent the next week with someone that spent all day and night with her to help calm her constant panic attacks. 

Off in the distance, two people stood at the shore, one was really short and the other really tall. Once he got a bit closer, he noticed it was Dragon and the girl he’d met earlier, Azaria. She was standing in the water, hands behind her back. He could see how long her hair was now—it was hard to judge exactly where it reached, given the slight breeze that blew her hair off to the side. If he were to guess, though, her hair probably reached her legs. 

Sabo stood still, anxious. He didn’t get anxious very often, but he wasn’t sure how to talk to her. She was just so… so _broken_ earlier. 

The girl looked over to him and then walked up to Dragon, tugging on the sleeve of his cloak, and turned, pointing over to Sabo, who was thoroughly confused. How did she notice him when he was so far away and so quiet?

He waved awkwardly and went to turn in the opposite direction when Dragon beckoned him over. 

Dragon walked a bit more up the shore to where the sand was dry, sat down. Sabo stood to his right while Azaria was on his left. 

“You two need a proper introduction,” Dragon spoke, his voice still rough but softer than usual. Sabo found it odd. “Azaria, this is Sabo.”

He wasn’t sure why it happened this time and not the last, but Azaria looked like she’d seen a ghost. She looked nervous and scared and sad all at the same time but still managed to give a small wave. She opened her mouth slightly, as if she were about to speak, but promptly closed it. 

“Hi,” Sabo said. He was unsure of what to say, and stuttered out the first thing that came to his mind, “Do you uh, like the ocean? You were in the water before.”

She nodded, “Y-yeah.” She paused for a moment, looking straight down at the ground. “Do you like it too?” 

When she spoke longer sentences, even ones that were short for most, she had these slightly extended pauses between words. A hesitance to speak. But Sabo ignored that; she needed help, and treating her normally could be just the help she needs. He hoped it would. “I do! There’s just somethin’ about it that keeps calling. I wanna go out to sea one day, see the world, y’know?” he paused, beaming at Dragon for a moment, “I know I can definitely do that one day, especially when I can back him up!” 

Azaria smiled a little awkward smile that wasn’t quite genuine, but Sabo could tell she was trying, or he thought she was. The wind blew against Sabo and he could see how Azaria shivered; her legs were still wet from standing in the water. 

There were a few seconds of awkward silence; Sabo could see how uncomfortable the girl looked, and he just wasn’t sure what to say.

“Do you two want to go indoors, warm up?” Dragon asked, breaking the silence. 

Both of the children agreed in their own ways; Azaria by nodding, and Sabo by only saying, “Sure.”

While walking back, Sabo turned towards Azaria, who was clearly shivering as the wind blew harder. “Do you want my coat?” he asked. 

The girl looked surprised at the gesture, staring at him as if he were some kind of alien or something super extra amazing—because obviously, he was the latter—but then her face fell, and she went back to an expression that was something between sad and disappointed; she shook her head, declining his offer. 

The rest of the walk was in silence, Dragon leading. They went inside the main building again; not many people were there at night unless it was an emergency or something serious was happening—needless to say, Sabo was surprised when they passed a room with light shining from under the door the sound of possibly arguing hushed voices could easily be heard. It was muffled, hard to make out words. He was able to catch a few, _Noah, Dragons’s, magma._ He heard a phrase, which he found curious, _the little girl._ He wondered if it had something to do with Azaria. And who was Noah? He hadn’t heard that name before. 

Maybe, just maybe Dragon went to an active volcano—which he heard in a book, once—to rescue Azaria from someone named Noah. It made sense, given what he’d heard. But then again, maybe it didn’t make sense. Why rescue a single girl? Not to say that she wasn’t worth it, but they usually didn’t do that kinda thing unless the person was from the Revolutionary Army, or if they were important in some way. Maybe this girl was super strong! He didn’t get that feeling, though. He’d find out eventually, anyway. 

They stopped by a bathroom, one with a tub. 

Dragon turned towards Azaria. “There are towels and a change of clothes if you’d like to wash up. Take your time,” he said. His voice was still softer than normal, and Sabo felt as if he were beginning to understand why. 

“Okay,” said Azaria. She walked into the bathroom, and the door shut the two clicks, one likely being a lock. 

“Sabo,” Dragon grabbed his attention, “Go to the break room. Get it ready.”

The kid nodded, “Alright, sir.”

Sabo walked down the hall and to the left. The break room wasn’t like a typical break room really, it was more of a living room. People went there to cool down, get away from work for a bit when they didn’t want to go all the way to the dorm building. There was a couch, a few chairs, and a fireplace, as well as a coffee table with a few candies for those with a sweet tooth, and crackers and nuts for those who preferred them. 

He lit the fireplace and then walked over to the closet where they kept blankets and pillows. He grabbed two blankets: a thick comforter, and a thinner throw blanket that was really soft. Sabo took a few trips to the closet, he grabbed a few more blankets and what was probably an absurd amount of pillows. He wasn’t sure how many she would prefer, and he always liked having lots of blankets and pillows anyway. 

He plopped onto the couch, curled up in blankets and laid on pillows and waited for Dragon and Azaria to get there. 

҉

Looking at herself in the mirror was jarring. She’d of course seen herself before, but recently, it wasn’t very often. There was even that large chunk of time where she wasn’t able to look in the mirror at all. She didn’t like thinking about those days. 

Her hair was longer than she thought it was; it went all the way down to her thighs. She had a few bruises on her—not as many as there used to be, luckily—and she just looked tired, exhausted; there were dark bags under her eyes. What was most curious, what she noticed most, was how her collar was missing. She’d noticed earlier, outside as the wind blew against her neck; it stung a bit from the skin that had been rubbed raw by the metal collar. She didn’t think about it at first, given how overwhelming everything was. 

The bathroom she was in had a few stalls, a few showers, and closets that were clearly labelled by what was in them. She showered; thoughts flew through her mind about the events of the day. However many days it’d been since she was saved. Everything felt foreign, and even though she didn’t show it, she was constantly on edge, waiting for Master Charloss to find her and take her back. 

And Noah. She missed him. He was also so nice, considerate, caring; he fulfilled his promise. 

_But he died to do it,_ she thought. It was true, and she wasn’t sure if that was okay or not. It didn’t feel okay, but everyone dies for the greater good. Like with Leon or the others that came after him. They died for the greater good, she knew that for a fact. 

She stepped out of the shower and dried off, threw her dirty clothes in the trash—she didn’t need them again, hopefully—and walked over to a closet, sifting through some plain clothes until she found some that fit. She chose a white t-shirt and a pair of black shorts that ended just above her knee. It was comfy, not too warm or cold, either. 

She stepped out of the bathroom; the tall man was sitting on the other side of the hall, reading a book. She couldn’t tell what it was because his hands were obscuring the title. He shut his book, standing when the door clicked shut. 

“What happened to it?” Azaria pointed towards her neck. 

“I took it off.”

“Okay,” she said. “Where’d L-,” she paused for a moment, stopping herself from making a mistake. “Where’d Sabo go?” She’d felt him walking down the hall earlier, but she didn’t know why. He was still in the building, cozy and possibly asleep. 

“The break room, just down here,” Dragon said. He walked down the hall, leading the way. 

“Wait,” Azaria said. “I have a question,” she hesitated for a moment, a lick of anxiety crept up her throat, “When will I be able to go home?” She was scared, scared he’d say something bad. She stepped a bit closer, close enough to read his emotions. 

Dragon stopped, turning towards her, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? For now, get some sleep. It’s late.”

He didn’t sound guilty, but Azaria could feel that he carried some. She wasn’t sure if it was related to her going home or not, but it scared her more. She did her best to push away the fear. There was no way, _no possible way,_ that it had something to do with home. That’s what she repeated in her mind over and over and over again, just to convince herself. 

He gave her a curious look, making her realize she’d just been staring, lost in thought. 

“O-okay,” she stuttered. She walked over beside him, looking at him expectantly. Dragon had said something about going to a ‘breakroom’ and she wasn’t sure what that was, but she wanted to see it. 

Dragon led the way down a hall and to the left. The room they entered was warm, the flames in the fireplace were dancing around, occasionally sending out small embers that diminished as they flew in the air. There was a large, cozy couch, and a few big chairs. Snacks sat on the table, and Sabo laid curled in a ball, covered in blankets at the end of the couch, snoring. His hat had fallen down to the floor, his coat swung over the couch. Azaria picked up his hat and set it on the table. Dragon walked over to one of the chairs, which was also covered in blankets, and sat down, going back to reading his book.

“Feel free to sit or lay down wherever you want,” Dragon said, without glancing up. 

She took another glance around the room, considering her options. She wanted to lay on the couch; she couldn’t remember the last time she was around someone nice, other than Noah and the doctor. She pulled up the blankets on the side of the couch opposite Sabo, revealing a layer of pillows underneath. She smiled a little, laid down, pulled a bunch of blankets over her, and drifted off with memories of home dancing around her mind. 

҉

Dragon sat in the chair, flipping through pages of his book. It was a novel written by an ex-marine that ‘mysteriously’ disappeared. The book had been pulled from any shelf it made it’s way too due to its content. A tell-all on the crimes that some of the higher-ups in the marines had committed. It was a wonder that the book made it on any shelf in the first place. It was an insightful read, and he made a mental note to get a few copies made so others in the Revolutionary Army could read it. 

Sabo was snoring. Loudly. It wasn’t annoying or anything, but it was a reminder that he was watching children—not that he’d forgotten, of course. Dragon hadn’t expected to watch them, but after the promise he made to Noah, he found himself caring for the girl to the best of his ability while managing his leadership duties. He didn’t have much to do, given it’d only been a day, but he had to fill out reports. He wrote of the prior days events in his room as the girl slept several feet away; she kept swapping between peaceful and restless sleep, as if she’d been having nightmares visit her over and over again. 

It wasn’t the most pleasant thing to see. He’d seen a lot, he’d seen death and war; those things take a toll on you—and yet seeing a child in pain was something that hurt far more than he expected. He needed to get her a checkup, and maybe a psych evaluation as well. Iva wasn’t there. They had other doctors, but he trusted Iva the most, with this. 

Dragon had been up for two, almost three days straight. The call of sleep was whispering in his ears, a yawn crawling its way up his throat. It was hard to keep his eyes open, they watered slightly as he yawned. The words on the pages were spiralling away, too. 

Sleepily, he put out the fire. He managed not to stumble because of course, he wouldn’t. Another yawn pawed its way out of his throat—why was he thinking of Kuma right now? Weird. Maybe he would be a good person to introduce to the girl. He was like a giant teddy bear with children, after all. Sabo had taken well to him, so had other children. He put the thought out of his mind, an effort to not stay up any longer. 

He reclined the chair back, pulled the blanket over him fully, and drifted off to sleep. 

҉

 _“If you act out one more time, I’ll have that little island you’re from_ destroyed _!” Charloss screamed._

_Azaria cowered trying to make herself even smaller. It was an awful day, they’d lost another and she was panicking, begging Charloss to spare her friends. His reaction wasn’t what she expected; she cried and cried and cried, but didn’t speak a word, hoping that would help calm him—make him stop, take back his threats._

_Charloss hit her with a fancy cane that he’d been gifted for his last birthday, almost a year ago, the same one they’d lost Leon. Azaria was completely knocked to the ground, now. Charloss stomped on her arm, using all of his weight. A sickening crunch, racking reverberated through the room that stood still without the fear-inducing sound of Charloss’s screams._

_The silence ended with a scream. A shriek carried its way through the halls of the mansion, haunting the thoughts of those who were able to care. Noah was out there, in the hall on his way to pick her up. She could feel how terrified he was, his fear, others’ fear, all piled onto her own._

_She was completely overwhelmed._

҉

Azaria shot up, her throat scratchy, in pain. She’d just screamed. Tears were rolling down her face and she was trying her best to breath but it just felt like the air _wouldn’t go in._ Her heart raced, she looked around frantically. Everything was a blur. She couldn’t think straight. There were two humanoid shapes in the room, she couldn’t make them out. She backed up against the corner of the couch to the best of her abilities. 

She brought her knees to her chest, tried to cower, sink down the best she could. She tried to move the pillows under her, failing, pulled blankets over herself. A hand was placed on her shoulder, words were spoken but he just couldn’t understand them, couldn’t pay attention. She stayed still, afraid to move from the touch. Afraid she’d be hit. The hand was moving her and she was panicking. 

_Where’s he taking me?_

Her thoughts were a scream echoing through her mind. She felt squeezed tight, Azaria was afraid she’d be crushed or something. 

It was a warm squeeze. It wasn’t too tight. 

_Hug._

It was a hug, a comforting, maybe safe hug, and she calmed down enough to understand words again. 

“You’re safe here, no one is going to hurt you,” said a man with a soft, but still gruff voice. 

She could tell how truthful he was being, feel it with her power, but she stayed still, scared that something was wrong, that her power wasn’t working right, or that the man was _somehow_ lying. It was confusing, and she still couldn’t think clearly enough to realize where she was. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, whimpers tried to crawl their way out of her throat, forcing her into more pain as she held them in, trying to be silent. 

The man repeated his words in intervals, occasionally adding different lines that she still couldn’t quite understand as she fell into a downward spiral of anxiety, overthinking. She stared straight ahead, vision blurry with tears. Someone was sitting near her, mouth moving. 

“You’re gonna be okay, I promise,” the boy in front of her said, words managing to get through to her. 

She moved her hands, wiping tears out of her eyes to clear her vision. Leon? It looked like Leon but it couldn’t be. Azaria was hit with a pang of guilt and thanks at the same time—Leon had done so much for her and the other kids. The sight of him calmed her down a bit, even if it wasn’t possible. 

It didn’t take long for her to think clearly again, realize it was Sabo in front of her and Dragon holding her. She was sad, still a little scared, but finally calm. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

They were both worried, Sabo was a bit scared. Her head was hurting, too. 

“Are you okay?” Sabo asked, his words soaked in a slight panic. 

She nodded. “I think so,” she paused for a second, “I just… I just had a bad dream, is all.” She knew they could probably tell she wasn’t quite okay. 

“Is there anything we can do for you, Azaria?” the tall man asked. 

She shook her head, “I don’t think so… I just-” she paused, a sob catching in her throat, “I just wanna go home,” she choked out her words, her throat screaming at her in pain. She couldn’t feel the tall man’s emotions anymore, couldn’t read any emotion on his face. It was concerning, she felt exhausted still. “What time is it?” 

“Early enough for you to go back to sleep,” Dragon replied. 

Sabo picked up a few blankets and pillows that fell to the floor. “I’m sooo tired,” he whined, extending the vowels in his last two words. 

Azaria yawned. It lasted a good ten seconds, probably. “I think I need sleep, too.”

Once all of the pillows and blankets were back on the couch, Azaria laid down and tried to get comfortable again. She spent the next hour being haunted by her dream, bad thoughts coursing through her mind. 

She just wanted to sleep. 

There was a slight shifting of blankets. “Hey, are you awake?” Sabo asked. 

“Uh-huh,” she answered. “Why?”

“I was just wondering,” he stuttered over his words for a moment, “if you’re okay?”

Sabo was a little scared and nervous, still worried. Azaria could understand why, too. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”

She knew her words weren’t completely truthful, but she hoped they’d be enough to calm him down. It felt like it was working a bit too, but not as much as she’d hoped. 

“If you need someone to hang out with tomorrow, I’m free,” Sabo offered. 

She’d be going home tomorrow, or at least she hoped so. A part of her was doubtful, the guilt that the tall man carried led her to feel that way. “I’ll let you know if I do.”

“I don’t know what time it is, but I’m super tired. Get some-” Sabo cut himself off with a yawn, “get some sleep.” 

The blankets ruffled some more, and less than a minute later she could hear snoring. She giggled quietly to herself before getting anxious again; she was scared she wouldn’t be able to go home. She just wanted to see her mother again. 

She would do _anything_ to see her mother again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Just finished writing this chap tonight (2/27) and I think I'm happy with how it turned out! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I'll be working on it! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, and subs!! It means so much to me to see them ♡
> 
> ~Nymph


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